The Right Direction, Part 1
by JordanMcGee
Summary: "Every time I think maybe I'm headin' in the right direction, I end up in a place I never knew could feel this bad." Reeling from his wife's death, Jax is plunged into a catatonic state where he's bombarded with beautiful and painful memories of his life with Tara. When he recovers, which direction will he take?
1. Prologue

**The Right Direction: Part 1**

**_"Every time I think maybe I'm headin' in the right direction, I end up in a place I never knew could feel this bad."_**

**Reeling from his wife's death, Jax is plunged into a catatonic state where he's bombarded with beautiful and painful memories of his life with Tara. When he recovers, which direction will he take? Will he be the crazed monster intent on violently avenging his wife's brutal murder? Or will he finally keep his promise - honor what Tara died trying to do - and save their boys from the violent MC life that could be their fate. Or both…**

**Sons of Anarchy belongs to Kurt Sutter. I own nothing (except an OC that will be introduced later).**

_AN:_

_I still have a ton of anger over Season 6. Yes, because Tara died; she was my favorite SOA character by FAR. But also because of the ridiculous OOC storyline that Sutter gave her. Yes, I would think that getting the boys out of Charming, away from Gemma and the MC life would be her first priority in the face of a lengthy prison term. But a fake miscarriage plot is right out of bad 1970's soap operas. Was Sutter's writing team watching 40-year-old re-runs of "General Hospital" or "As the World Turns" when they came up with that ridiculous story arc? It was stupid and lazy and generated all sorts of ridiculous Tara-hate. All we needed was an evil twin and a bout of amnesia to make the freak season complete. So I'm writing this so I can honor my all-time favorite TV character (next to Jack Bauer) and make sure Jax remembers how good he had it with her._

_Acknowledgements: I love some of the fanfiction I've read here. Particularly "Final Embrace" by VD Star, "Shut Down the City Lights" by Monroeslittle and "There's Us" by Xiomy318 (please finish!). I totally agree with some of the details and plot points in those stories (e.g., Jax's wish to have his ashes mingled with Tara's and buried together from "Final Embrace" was beautiful) so I've alluded to some of those in this story._

_I titled this Part 1 because it's mainly flashbacks. Since I will not watch Season 7, Part 2 will be how I would like to envision the end unfolding. But I still have a ways to go in plot construction before it's ready._

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

There's so much blood; the cloying, coppery odor so overwhelming that the sheriff's deputy finds it hard to breathe. He's no rookie; he's worked bloody crime scenes before. But this… this is horror beyond anything he's ever seen.

They had found his boss, Sheriff Eli Roosevelt, dead and sprawled across the kitchen floor – a gaping bullet hole ripped into his back. The deputy closes his eyes in regret; Eli was a good man, a good cop. He certainly didn't deserve this. Hell the Roosevelt family didn't deserve this; another tragedy so soon after Rita had been so cruelly taken from them. The coroner takes his body away first, leaving a dark pool of coagulated blood smeared on the white tile.

The body of the other victim, Dr. Tara Knowles, is still in the room. After loading Roosevelt's body into the first van, the coroner returns and indicates that he's ready to take her away, too. But her husband – who had been there when they found the bodies – is still cradling her body, clasping her to him, refusing to let go. His head is bent, pressed against her neck, while he sobs uncontrollably. It's a jarring sight for the deputy who only knows Jackson Teller to be as cold and hard as the reaper gracing the back of his leather cut.

Patterson, the DA, sees the deputies and the coroner moving in, ready to seize the body – by force if necessary - from the distraught husband and signals for them to stand down. Teller is a violent and dangerous man, but none of them have ever seen the steely-eyed biker king like this before – crying, wailing, completely destroyed. There's just no telling what he might do if confronted now.

"Jackson," Patterson is standing above Teller, she speaks softly "The coroner is here. You need to let him take her now."

The deputy puts his hand on his gun; he's seen the fallout of Teller's violent behavior before. He knows it would not be beyond the SAMCRO President to pull out a gun and start shooting in order to keep what he believes belongs to him. And without a doubt, Tara Knowles has always belonged to him.

Teller clutches his wife's body even tighter, "Get out" he snarls, not even looking up – his red, wet face buried against his wife's cheek.

"I'm sorry, Jax" Patterson tries to reason with him, "but we need to take her, or we'll never know what happened to her, never be able to catch the person who did this to her."

This seems to get Teller's attention; he finally raises his head. In an instant his expression transforms from soul crushing grief to murderous rage. The deputy pulls out his gun as Patterson steps back. The monster has returned.

"You want to know what happened?" Teller screams at them, his eyes wild with fury and grief, "Someone fucking murdered my wife on your watch! She was supposed to be safe, and you and your goddamn sheriff let her get murdered in our home! You think I want you fucking people anywhere near her again? Get out! GET OUT!"

Roosevelt was murdered, too, the deputy silently defends his late boss. Eli most likely died trying to protect Dr. Knowles. But there's no reasoning with Teller in his current state. They're going to have to take her by force.

Sighing with regret, Patterson signals the deputies to advance. It takes all three of them to pry Teller's tight grip from his wife's body and wrestle him away so the coroner can lift her body on to the stretcher and wheel her outside to the waiting van. Teller lets out a blood-curling roar when they finally separate him from Tara's body and begins fighting the deputies holding him down. He screams her name again and again as he scrambles to break the deputies' hold. Jackson Teller is a strong man – even more so in his crazed anguish. He manages to escape the hold by breaking one deputy's nose with a vicious punch and disabling another with forceful kicks to the shins and groin. He races outside, still screaming her name, desperate to stay with her – as if staying with her body would somehow bring her back to life, back to him.

As the coroner is loading Tara's body into the van, Teller lunges, intent on stopping the man from taking Tara away from him. But a blinding pain forces him to his knees. "Tara!" he screams as he watches the coroner's van drive off with his love, his beautiful girl. "Tara!" He stumbles forward, trying to give chase when the pain hits him again and again until he sinks into oblivion.

Patterson stares at the deputy holding the Taser and then down at the unconscious, prone body of Jackson Teller.  
"Take him in," she orders, "book him for assault of a law enforcement officer for now. We'll know soon enough if we need to upgrade that to double homicide."

* * *

_He wakes slowly. His eyes feel heavy, swollen shut. His body aches like he's been beaten – every muscle, every nerve screaming from even the smallest of movements. He listens for noises, any familiar sounds that can provide a clue to where he is. But it's too quiet, and that scares him. He wants to hear Tara's even breathing as she sleeps nestled against him and the night-time gurgling noises from the baby monitors perched on the night stand._

_It's a near herculean effort, but he's finally able to pry his eyes open. Peering under swollen lids, he can see a dim light. With even more effort, he turns his head and the irons bars gradually come into focus. He realizes that he's in county jail. He's spent enough time in these cells to know the distinct smell; knows how cold and dark it can be for those forced to stay as overnight guests. But the smell of blood – one he knows all too well – is there, too. He smells it on his hands, on his arms, in his hair. And then the memory hits him with force of the heaviest and cruelest of hammers. It's Tara's blood. The kitchen had been drenched with it; he had felt it matted in her hair, felt it seep through his clothes when he held her. And he remembers that his beautiful wife is gone forever. Hot tears sting and run down his face before he can slam his eyes shut. But he can't stem the flow any more than he can stop the sharp, crushing pain from ravaging through him, forcing more sobs to wrack his body. And then worse than the tears, worse than the physical pain comes an assault of memories of his life with Tara. _

_Memories from childhood when she was a smart, smart-ass little girl next door; never hesitating to tell him and Opie that their pranks were stupid, laughing in their faces when those pranks backfired – but always, always standing by them, defending them and denying accusations from parents, teachers and any other authority figures seeking to mete out punishment. _

_Memories of high school when he realized that his childhood friend had transformed into the most beautiful girl in the world. He had fallen so hard for her, and she with him that they couldn't bear to be apart, couldn't fathom life without the other. His world had revolved around the moments he could be with her, and when he wasn't with her, she consumed his thoughts. She had owned him so completely that during their 11-year separation, he had lived in limbo; fucking nameless, faceless women who were just surrogates for the only girl he would ever love. His short and regrettable marriage had done nothing more than underscore the sad fact he would always be emotionally unavailable to any woman but Tara._

_Memories of her return to Charming as a gifted surgeon; still so smart and so incredibly beautiful, but with a new and irresistible layer of maturity and self-possession. He hadn't thought it possible, but his consuming love and need for her increased ten-fold in the years that she re-entered his life, became the mother of his children and his wife._

_Ever since he was a sixteen-year-old kid, all he ever wanted was to take his father's place as head of the MC and have Tara by his side forever. And for a short, brutally short, time his dream had been reality. But now it's gone; Tara is gone and there would be no more dreams for his future. He closes his eyes and allows sleep take him. No more future, just the past…_


	2. Strength Comes from the Good Things

**Chapter 1: STRENGTH COMES FROM THE GOOD THINGS**

It's not common knowledge, but Jax wasn't the first Teller man to fall in love with Tara Knowles.  
No, that distinction belonged to his kid brother, Tommy.

Jax doesn't remember when Tommy first starts ditching him to run off to be with Tara. Usually Tommy is his shadow, following him everywhere. But at some point, out of the blue, Tommy decided that Opie's quiet, dark-haired next door neighbor was better company than anyone, even his older brother. Jax thinks it's funny that his four-year-old brother seems to have a sixth sense when it comes to locating Tara. It's like Tommy's a tiny compass and she's North. Anytime Tara is nearby – whether they're at Opie's house, in a store or at the park, Tommy would find her and everyone, including Jax, would be forgotten.

Since Opie is Jax's best friend, he and Tommy see her a lot because Jax tries to spend as much time as he can at the Winston's place. And Tommy always insists on trailing his older brother. Jax tells his mom and dad that Opie needs their company because he's an only child and lonely. Which is true. But it's also true that more fun can be had under Mary or Piney Winston's lax supervision versus Gemma Teller's eagle eyes.

Sometimes Tara comes over to Opie's house to hang out with them; Tommy would claim his place on her lap or hold her hand or both. When she doesn't, Tommy would ditch them to run next door to her house and bang on the door until she lets him in to spend long afternoons drawing and coloring pictures, baking cookies or whatever girly stuff Tara wants to do while her parents are at work. Jax and Opie often tease Tara about her possessive boyfriend, but she just looks down her nose at them and huffs that they're just jealous because neither of them are nearly as cute or as fun as Tommy.

Jax thinks it's great that Tommy is so magnetized to Tara because it gives him and Opie the freedom to pull pranks, spout newly-learned profanity and wax on about their SAMCRO dreams without having a little kid under-foot. He loves his little brother, but sometimes men need time to be men, even at age ten. Besides he's known Tara since pre-school. She's always been the coolest girl he knows and seems to love spending time with his brother. But to be safe (as his parents would kill him if anything happened to Tommy), he keeps an eye on the pair in case Tommy gets tired (which happens a lot with his weak heart) or if Tara gets tired of the often involuntary (and always free) baby-sitting duties.

But whenever he's with Tara, Tommy is always laughing with her, singing with her or gazing adoringly at her as she reads him story after story. And whenever she's with Tommy, Tara is always smiling. Which Jax and Opie agree is a good thing. Tara's home life has never been a happy one so she hasn't had much to smile about, especially since her mom died last year. But it doesn't take long for Jax to secretly wish that she would smile like that at him.

* * *

One Saturday the Tellers and other SAMCRO members attend a funeral for Otto's old man. After the service, Jax's parents remain to pay respects to Otto and Luanne and mingle with the members of other charters who made the trip to Charming. He and Opie are admiring all the different Harley's when he notices that Tommy is nowhere to be seen. Jax knows there will be hell to pay if JT and Gemma find out that he's lost Tommy. He and Opie split up the search; Jax combs the rest of the cemetery while Opie checks out the street in case Tommy was drawn to the sight of all the bikes.

The worried pounding in his chest almost causes him miss the sound. Someone is crying. He runs towards the muffled sobs and almost, almost misses the two small figures obscured by the larger headstones. In front of a small grave marker, sits a young girl, her head bent as she sobs into her hands. Beside her, Tommy is on his knees, his chubby hand stroking her dark brown hair. Jax doesn't need to see her face to know it's Tara. Somehow Tommy knew she was here and the four-and-a-half-year-old slipped past his parents, his brother and dozens of SAMCRO members to go comfort her.

Jax steps closer; feeling slightly uncomfortable around the crying girl, mumbling "Hey" is all he could muster.  
Apparently it's all he needs to say, as both Tommy and Tara whirl around to face him.

Tommy babbles something but Jax doesn't hear him. Tara is staring at him with those mossy green, tear-filled eyes and there's a jolt in his stomach and roaring in his head. He opens his mouth to say something else and then closes it as somehow he's forgotten how to speak.

She stands up and wipes her tears with the backs of her hands. He wishes he has a pack of tissues to give her. He glances at the grave marker and sees the name, Grace Knowles. And then he remembers that Tara's mother died exactly a year ago. His family had gone to the funeral, and he remembers feeling so sorry for her that day. She looked so sad.

"I'm sorry," she says, helping Tommy to his feet and guiding him to Jax.

"For what?" Jax replies absently as he continues to stare into her eyes. How has he not noticed how pretty they were? And then he hears Gemma in the distance calling Tommy's name, then his name. It shakes him out of his strange trance.

"Not your fault," he assures her, "Mom's looking for us. Tommy & I gotta go."

Now that he's not fixated on her eyes, he sees there's a dark bruise on her cheek and slight swelling to her lip. Was she crying because that hurt? It sure looked painful. "You okay?" Jax knows it's a stupid question, obviously she's not okay, but somehow his brain and his mouth have forgotten how to function together.

She looks down so her long brown hair obscures her face, "I'm fine," she says so softly that he almost doesn't hear it. She leans down to hug Tommy. "Thanks, Toms." She gives his brother a watery smile before kissing him on the forehead. And for the first time in his whole life, Jax envies his little brother.

* * *

One rainy Sunday afternoon at Opie's house, Tara suggests that they play a game of Time Machine. Jax thinks it's a stupid game, but he had told Opie that they need to cheer her up after the incident at the cemetery. She teaches them how to play – "It's very simple," she informs them, "If you had a time machine – where would you go, and what would you do?" Opie goes first – he wants to be sixteen with his own Harley and ride to the beach in Santa Cruz. Jax goes further into the future where he would be President of SAMCRO and lead all of the charters. Tommy wants to go back in time to see the dinosaurs (he and Tara had been coloring pictures of dinosaurs that morning). "What about you, Knowles?" Jax teases, "go back in time to make sure dodge ball doesn't get invented?" alluding to Tara's loathing of the game they had to play during gym class when rain forced the class inside. She's usually a pretty good athlete but really, really sucks at that game. He and Opie crack up, remembering her last pathetic attempt to play. Tara distracts Tommy into looking at something out the window and then flips his older brother the bird.

* * *

It's the worst day of Jax's 12-year-old life. The Tellers are at St. Thomas Hospital where Tommy is hooked up to an endless number of tubes. They were at home when Tommy suddenly collapsed, unable to breathe. Both he and Jax have bad hearts, a defect inherited from their mother. But while Jax and his mom have enjoyed robust health, Tommy has always been fragile. Jax sits quietly, miserably in the chair holding Tommy's hand while his little brother drifts in and out of consciousness. Gemma and JT are outside somewhere, having been led away by the doctor to talk about Tommy's prognosis.

He senses someone come into the room and is surprised to see Tara. She's alone and walks up to stand next to Tommy's bed. Her normally pale complexion is pink from exertion and her eyes are red-rimmed from crying.

"Opie told me," she places a hand on his arm, "I'm so sorry, Jax."

He feels warmth spreading from where her hand rests on his upper arm up to his shoulder and down into his fingers. He doesn't realize how icy cold he had been, "Thanks," he stares at her for a heartbeat and then looks back to Tommy. "Tommy will be glad you're here. Did your dad drive you here?" Another stupid question (he seems to be a never-ending font of them around her); St. Thomas is miles away from the Knowles residence.

"No," she shakes her head sadly, a single tear falls down her cheek as she takes in all the tubes keeping his brother alive, "I ran."

Then as if he knew his girl had arrived, Tommy opens his eyes. "Tara?" he whispers, "you're here."

Jax watches Tara flash a brilliant smile at Tommy, "Hey Toms," she brushes a blond lock from his eyes, "I brought you a get well present." She reaches into the front pocket of her hoodie and hands him a bright red toy car. Jax tries not to choke up as his brother smiles for the first time – unlike the other Teller men, Tommy prefers classic cars to motorcycles.

"Wow, the Thunderbird," he whispers reverently, gazing lovingly at the car and then back up at Tara. During their exchange, Jax should have felt invisible except Tara moves her hand from his arm to squeeze his hand. And the heat that had radiated through his arm now spreads through his whole body and despite the misery of the room, he feels just a tiny bit happy.

"Love you, Tara," he hears his brother whisper. It's surprising because Tommy had only ever said that to their parents and to Jax. But then again, not surprising, Tara Knowles is no ordinary girl.

"I love you, too, Toms," she smiles again and kisses him on the forehead.

When Tommy died hours later, he was clutching the red car. He was still clutching it days later when they closed the casket and lowered Jax's baby brother into the ground.

Jax would later learn from Opie that Tara stole the red Thunderbird from her father's model car collection because Tommy had loved it. Opie would also tell him that Frank Knowles beat the shit out of Tara for taking the car and refusing to tell him what she did with it or how to get it back. His drunken rage and the force of the beating was so loud that Opie and Piney heard it at the Winston residence and came running over. Piney had to knock Tara's dad unconscious to prevent him from beating his daughter to death over a toy car. Jax decides he wants to knock Tara's dad unconscious, too.

She's covered with bruises and her fractured arm is in a sling, but she puts on a hoodie to cover her face and walks to the cemetery for Tommy's funeral. She stands in the back so no one can see her. After the service when most people have walked away, she stands next to Jax looking over Tommy's grave.

"If I had a time machine, I would go into the future and become a doctor," she whispers, reaching out with her good arm to squeeze his hand, "then I would come back and save him."

* * *

The summer before they start high school is brutally hot. Jax and Opie go to the lake every day to swim in the cold water and then flirt with the girls in bikinis. And most times, they do more than flirt. Jax loves being around pretty girls, and they love him back. His golden good looks ensures that he could have any girl he wants, and he wants many. Opie gets his share of girls, too. But unlike Jax, Opie is a serial monogamist (a term they learned when Tara made them watch some idiot chick movie); Opie would have a girlfriend he would date steadily for a few weeks or a few months and then break up with her to start another cycle with another girl.

On the last day of summer vacation, Tara goes with them to the lake. She had avoided going all summer because the sun is hell on her pale skin. But the record heat combined with a broken air conditioner had her tailing along with Jax and Opie. They find a large patch of grass under a tree to put down their towels and beer cooler. Jax and Opie are ready to jump into the water immediately but Tara says she needs more sunscreen. She shoos them off, saying that the ladies are waiting for them.

Jax smiles as he dives into the water. Tara is definitely not like any other girl he knows. Any of those girls would demand that he stay with her and sure as hell wouldn't encourage him to flirt with other girls. They've grown to be closer friends since Tommy's death, as if being together was a way to keep Tommy alive somehow. Jax sometimes found himself going over to her house when he knew Opie wasn't home. Just to hang out, watch movies or read one of the millions of books she seemed to have. Her old man was never home so Tara was alone all the time. But even being friends with her is different than being friends with anyone else. Tara has always been somewhat of a loner, ever since they were little kids. Yeah, she'll hang out with him and Opie now and then, and random people here and there. But more often than not, she did her own thing.

An half hour later, he's making out with a hot blonde from Lodi, thinking maybe he could take her to the secluded area he had found earlier in the summer and claim what she was offering him. He had lost his virginity a few months ago to an 18-year-old croweater and quickly decided that sex was the greatest and would never turn down a chance for more.

He breaks the kiss and starts to suggest moving to his secluded spot when he sees past the blonde to a vision of long, long legs and the most gorgeous ass he's ever seen, molded to a pair of bikini bottoms. She has her back to him so all he can see of the rest of her is dark hair pulled into a bun, smooth shoulders and long and graceful spine. As if she can hear his silent request to turn around so he can see the rest of her, she pivots so he can see her profile. He nearly groans as he sees that her breasts are as world class as her long legs and perfect ass. High and firm, but also lush and full. The bikini top she wears only accentuates the delicious shape. His half-mast erection from anticipated sex with the blonde surges to a pulsing hard-on, as blood rushes downward from his head to his groin.

Then two things happen that send him reeling in disbelief. He's still admiring her breasts when she tilts her head backs and laughs. Jax freezes; he knows that musical, half-giggle as he's heard it hundreds of times since childhood. He tears his gaze from those perfect breasts to stare hard at the profile of her face. Holy mother of fuck, he had been lustfully ogling Tara. He had a hard-on that could hammer nails because of Tara. And to add to his mindfuck, he felt himself getting absolutely pissed that she wasn't alone. Standing next to her, getting the up-close view of her perfect body, making her laugh is some smarmy asshole that Jax has never seen before. The smarmy asshole is holding up a bottle of sunscreen, and Jax just fucking knows that this douchebag is offering to rub it on her. Over his dead body. He starts to move towards the couple with the intent of pounding the douchebag into a bloody mess.

"JAX!" someone is yelling his name, pulling him back. The blonde is gone, and Opie is staring at him in confusion, as if he's sprouted two heads or something. Jax takes a deep breath. Fuck, maybe he has – something in the universe has gone haywire if he's now lusting over a girl that he's been friends with since they were toddlers.

"What the fuck, dude. Did you go into some kind of trance?" Opie grins and plants his big meaty paw across Jax's forehead like a nurse checking for fever, "that chick was screaming your name and you're staring into space like some dopey fuck. It's like you forgot she was there."

He hadn't been staring into space; he had been spellbound by the most fuckable body he'd ever seen in the form of 14-year-old Tara Knowles. They're the same age, but he feels like a perv. And even though Opie is his best friend, there's no way in hell that Jax is going to tell him any of this, "Got distracted," he says simply, "guess I lost interest." It's not exactly a lie; the minute he saw Tara, the other girl ceased to exist, "Shit, I need a beer." Opie looks at him strangely but says nothing.

They start to walk towards to the area where they had laid their towels and beer cooler, and he feels his temper starting to spike to nuclear levels. A few feet away, he can see Tara lying face down on her towel while the smarmy asshole is spreading sunscreen over her flawless skin.

"Looks like Tara is finally getting some action," Opie chuckles. Jax doesn't appreciate the humor and scowls. But before he can open his mouth and say something incredibly stupid and expose his mind-boggling jealousy, Opie saves him from that particular disgrace. "Wait, that's Keith Brady," there's a wealth of disgust in Opie's voice as he recognizes the smarmy asshole, "Ugh, that dude's 19. Tara's total jailbait for that guy."

"Let's beat the shit out of him," Jax can't keep the savagery out of his voice as he watches the soon-to-be-dead man massage Tara's shoulders. He's ready to cut the asshole's balls off.

Mistaking Jax's anger for his own brotherly concern, Opie shakes his head, "Not yet and not here, Tara will kill us. But we can send a message. If he still doesn't get it, then you can hold him down while I tap dance on his nuts."

The ominous wrath on their faces must have been evident as they approach the couple; the smarmy asshole looks at both of them and jerks his hands from Tara's skin as if he'd been burned. Jax and Opie may be five years younger, but everyone knows that they are SAMCRO legacy and can mete out violence, even at a young age. He leaps up, mutters something to her about forgetting the time and needing to go and then scurries away without looking back. "Keep going douchebag," Jax mutters under his breath.

Tara is initially disoriented by her new friend's abrupt departure. She sits up and narrows her eyes at Opie and Jax, who are looking at her accusingly - like she's been caught doing something she shouldn't be doing. "What did you guys do to make him leave like that?"

"Didn't do anything," Jax shrugs and opens the beer cooler and tosses cold cans to both of them before popping open one for himself, "maybe he thought about the ass-fucking that he'd get in jail for getting a boner over a chick not even in high school."

Jumping to her feet, Tara marches to him and pokes him in the chest with her finger – hard enough to push him back, "You have got to be kidding me," she pokes him again, green eyes glittering over his hypocrisy, "you fuck everything in sight, and then you have the balls to threaten a guy who just helped me put on sunscreen."

Opie tries to ride to Jax's rescue, "Tara, you know he wasn't going to stop at sunscreen. No dude offers to put that crap on a girl unless he wants to, uh, well, you know, block the sun – uh, missionary style," he wags his eyebrows to try and diffuse her temper.

For his troubles, she nails him with that green glare, "That has got to be the most asinine thing you have ever said to me, Harry Winston. Just because the two of you are horny idiots, doesn't mean that you can paint everyone with the same stupid brush."

Oh she is pissed; Jax knows that when she's annoyed with the two of them, they are Jackson Teller and Harry Winston. But Jax doesn't care because those lush breasts are heaving in agitation and he's got the perfect view. While she vents her wrath at Opie, Jax takes full advantage to admire the plump white mounds. He wonders what color her nipples are; with her pale complexion, he's thinking pink - a rosy, suckable pink. Shit, he can feel himself getting hard again. She flips her attention back to him, ready to unload more temper, but stops when she sees where his gaze is focused.

"Good God, Jackson, they're just breasts," she snaps at him, "Nothing you haven't seen before on a dozen other girls," she whips her t-shirt on over her bathing suit, throws her towel and book in a bag and mutters something about getting a ride back from someone else. Oh and they can both go fuck themselves.

Jax watches her storm off, torn between staring at that perfect ass and running after her to apologize and convince her to stay with them. Behind him Opie starts to laugh, "And here I thought we were saving her from that pervert," he guffaws, "didn't realize that the real perv is you."

"Shut the fuck up, Ope," Jax growls.

Opie laughs even harder.

* * *

Jax is fifteen when his dad dies tragically in a motorcycle accident. It's a devastating blow for a family still reeling from Tommy's death just three years before. Jax had loved his old man more than anything so he goes through the days in a pain filled fog not even his mom or Opie can penetrate.

Life at home is suffocating. His mom is smothering him with too much attention (which actually started when Tommy died) and disgusting him with her not-so-subtle relationship with Clay, who was supposedly his old man's friend. Sometimes he hates them both.

He finds that he can sometimes finds a little peace sitting by his dad's grave stone. It's probably morbid, but it's the closest he can get to his dad now, so he doesn't care. A week after his dad's funeral, he runs off after an explosive fight with his mom and heads to the cemetery. His head is spinning and he wants to cry. Shit, he had just caught his mom having sex with Clay – just seven days after his dad was put in the ground. How the hell was he supposed to deal with that?

He's surprised to arrive at his father's grave stone to see Tara putting fresh flowers down next to the marker. She attended the funeral but he hadn't been able to spend any time with her given all the demands for his attention from his mother, his Uncle Jury and dozens of SAMCRO riders who had come to pay their respects. Standing next to Opie and Piney, she had walked up to him and his mom to offer her condolences. But before she walked away, she had grabbed his hand and squeezed tightly. And like the terrible day of Tommy's death, he drew comfort from the heat that spread across his body that caused his skin to tingle and remind him that he was very much alive.

"Tara," he says name softly. She stands up and turns to face him. She smiles sadly and wraps him in a tight hug. Jax pulls his hands out of his pockets and hugs her back, squeezing hard. He loves the comforting warmth of her, even though it causes him to release the hot torrent of tears that he'd been keeping at bay. He buries his wet face in her neck, savoring the clean floral scent of her hair.

"I was here for my Mom," she tells him, her voice slightly muffled by his chest, "today would have been her birthday. But then I thought about Tommy and your Dad and how they had their lives just _taken_ from them so soon. They didn't have a choice. It's just so unfair." So she had given his father and brother the flowers she had brought for her mom. Jax clutches her even tighter.

Tara never talks about her mom, but he knows the story. He had overheard Gemma talking to Luanne after Grace Knowles' funeral. They had gone to high school with Grace - a smart, ambitious girl who had wanted nothing more than to move away from Charming, go to college and then travel the world. Instead she had gotten pregnant with Tara and married the baby's father, Frank Knowles, her high school sweetheart who didn't share her dreams of leaving Charming. He was happy with his job at the local power plant and even happier hanging out with his drinking buddies. Grace sank into depression and buried herself in her travel books and prescription pills. Jax has vague memories of Tara's mom. He had thought she was pretty – she looked just like Tara - but always so sad. And it had made him sad to see Tara work so hard to make her mother happy whether it was through perfect grades or the painstakingly drawn and colored pictures of their family or cooking the family meals every night – it was endless. Tara didn't go to classmate's parties because she felt she needed to keep her mother company when her dad would go out drinking with his friends. It was as if she knew what would happen if her mother was left alone to dwell on the bitter disappointment that her life had become.

Not long after Tara's ninth birthday, Grace Knowles' body was pulled out of the San Joaquin River. She had left a note for Frank and Tara, and then drove her car through the wooden fence and down the embankment to sink into the river. Frank Knowles went on a downward spiral afterwards, transforming from a dashing Irish charmer into a violent, abusive drunk. And his young daughter, a small replica of her mother, became the frequent target for his rages. After the beat-down that Piney gave him after Tommy's funeral, Knowles promised he wouldn't touch Tara again. But Jax knows that her home life is still hell; she may be safe from her dad's fists, but not from the hateful sting of his insults that he shouts for the whole town to hear or the loneliness from his neglect.

And just like that, Jax has a moment of clarity. It hurts like hell that his old man is gone, but at least he got to spend fifteen years with the best dad to walk the earth. And though Gemma may be smothering him and making him crazy by slutting around with Clay, at least he knows that she's there for him and lovingly patient with him despite all the awful shit he's said to her face since JT died. Definitely beats parents that forget that you exist and then batter you when they remember. Jax still feels like shit, but the lead weight that had been crushing his chest since his dad's accident eases just a little.

Tara pulls away to peer up into his face; a tentative smile teasing her pink mouth, "I got my allowance today," she tells him (although he knows that her "allowance" is cash she steals from her dad's wallet to buy groceries before he can blow it all at the bars). "Ice cream's on me, Teller." He thinks about refusing, wanting to be alone with his misery and thoughts about his old man. But she looks so hopeful, so intent on helping him forget his loss – even for just a little while. He manages a slight smile, a slight nod and lets her lead him away.


	3. I've Loved You Since I Was Sixteen

**Chapter 2: I'VE LOVED YOU SINCE I WAS SIXTEEN**

_"Something's wrong with Teller," Cane tells Patterson as he leads her to the holding cell where they've been keeping the biker king, "He's been like this since we brought him in last night. Hasn't moved or said a word. Hasn't touched any food or water either. I don't think he's in any kind of shape for questioning."_

_ Patterson enters the cell and immediately agrees that something is definitely wrong. Teller's on the cot, curled into a fetal position; eyes open but staring blankly ahead. _

_"Jackson," she calls out, testing the waters. "I'm here to ask you some questions about what happened last night."_

_No response – not a word, not a sound, no indication that he's even heard her at all. As she moves closer she can see that he's shaking, slight tremors wracking his shoulders, arms, hands and legs._

_Alarmed, she checks his neck for a pulse. His skin is ice cold, clammy; his heartbeat is dangerously slow, barely discernible._

_She knows her successful track record as a DA was, in no small part, built on the diligent study of all her adversaries. And she has a wealth of knowledge about Jackson Teller, including his family's congenital heart problems. "Call an ambulance," she orders Cane. "We need to get him to the hospital NOW."_

* * *

Jax decides early that he hates high school. Oh, he's good with the weekend parties, the steady supply of ready and willing high school girls (in addition to the ready and willing croweaters at the Club) and being able to spend the day with Opie - skipping classes to smoke under the bleachers by the track. But he hates, absolutely hates the pointlessness of having to study about shit he'll never use in a million years. His future is secure as the one day leader of SAMCRO, and nothing he could ever learn from fucking algebra or fucking world history would ever be of any use once he gets the gavel. It's a fucking waste of time, and he starts counting down to the day he can tell the tight-ass principal to fuck off when he finally drops out.

It seems like an eternity, but freshman year finally, mercifully ends. He and Opie decide to celebrate with a double-header: kicking off the night at party thrown by graduating high school seniors and then by partying into the morning hours at the Club – both would be well stocked with booze and pussy.

Jax had just settled on the couch with a beer and his pussy of choice pulled onto his lap, when he sees her. For the second time in less than a year, Tara Knowles blows him away from a distance and renders everyone and everything around him invisible. Since their meeting in the cemetery and afternoon spent gorging on ice cream, he hasn't spent much time with her. It's not as if he'd been avoiding her; it just happened that way. They didn't have any classes together all year (apparently her test scores placed her in either freshman honors or upperclassmen level) and after school, instead of going to Opie's house, he and Opie either helped out at Teller Morrow or hung out at the Club. And she never attended any of their classmates' weekend parties or bonfires, at least not that he ever saw her.

Until now.

There's no way he could miss those long, lean legs and that perfectly shaped ass encased in snug jeans. And no way he could miss how her dark green button-up camisole skimmed her lean waist and cupped her full breasts, showing just enough cleavage to make a man forget his name. It also left her slender, pale arms bare so he could admire all that creamy, exposed skin. But then he realizes, to his mounting anger, just like last summer, there's another smarmy asshole touching her. It's a different guy this time; Jax vaguely recognizes Scott McKay, Charming High's starting quarterback and one of the graduating seniors hosting the party. What the fuck is up with Tara and these older guys? The jock strap is holding her hand and stroking her arm like she belongs to him. And Tara, goddamn her, just smiles up at this douchebag and touches his face. Jax's vision goes red. He does not like this; not one mother-fucking bit.

"Jax," he hears someone calling his name and then feels something wet and slimy in his ear. Shit, what's-her-name on his lap was trying to pull his attention back to her. It works, but instead of turning him on, he's annoyed. No, not just annoyed, he's fucking pissed. The douchebag is leading Tara by the hand out the patio door to the backyard, the dark and secluded backyard.

He pushes Slimy Tongue off of him and forces a cocky smile, "Sorry darlin', I gotta take a leak." It's a lie, but he's no longer in the mood for her, "I'll be right back." Another lie, but he doesn't give a shit. He doesn't even pretend to walk towards the bathroom but stalks right out the patio door.

Once out the door, Jax doesn't have to look far to find them; his eyes adjust quickly to the dim patio deck lights. The horny bastard has her pressed against the wall of a tool shed a few feet away. Tara wraps her arms around his neck as he bends down and sinks his tongue into her mouth. Jax's blood pressure rockets into the stratosphere. He rushes over to the edge of the patio, ready to launch himself over the deck railing and beat this guy to shit, when someone grabs him from behind and shoves him against the wall of the house.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Opie whispers furiously at him as he ducks the punch Jax blindly throws at him. "What the hell's the matter with you?"

Jax doesn't answer as he continues to struggle out of Opie's iron grasp, "Don't make me hurt you, man," he threatens his best friend, who out-weighs him by at least twenty pounds. "Get your fucking hands off me!" He's nearly shouting from the combination of frustration and fury.

"What're you gonna do?" Opie glares at him, trying to use reason to pull his friend back from the throes of his crazed temper. "Beat the hell out of that guy in front of her? You think you're gonna win points with her by showing that you're just like her old man?"

Jax immediately deflates, the fight leaving him in a rush. Too many times he's seen Tara in tears, shaking with fear and pain after her dad's drunken rages. He'd wanted to beat the shit out of Frank Knowles each time, but each time she'd beg him to stand down saying she didn't need to see that same violent behavior from one of her only friends. But his outrage is still there; he hates, fucking hates the sight - the very idea - of Tara with another guy. As if sensing his conflict, Opie releases his iron grip but continues to stand close, blocking Jax from making another attempt at jealousy-fueled murder.

But before either of them can do anything, Unser and Charming PD arrive to break up the party and herd everyone out. Apparently one (and probably more) of the neighbors was not happy with drunken, drugged-out high schools students spilling out of party central. Jax and Opie head over to their bikes; Jax keeping an eye on Tara and her date the whole time, scowling as McKay opens the car door for her.

"That asshole had better not have been drinking," he glares at the clean-cut football star as he walks around to the driver's side door and get in – if only looks _could_ kill. "I'm going to follow them to make sure she gets home okay."

Opie rolls his eyes, but nods that he would ride with Jax. Then he lets out the laugh he'd been holding back since he intercepted his friend from making a publicly jealous ass of himself.

"What the hell's so funny?" Jax grouses, speeding up so he doesn't lose sight of McKay's car. Not only does he want Tara home safe, but he also doesn't want that shitbag to think he can get any further with her - not in the back seat of that car or an invitation inside her house. He would definitely fucking kill that guy before either of those things could happen.

"This is the second time you've left some hot chick hanging to go brawl over turf that's not even yours," Opie teases. "She let you have it the last time; wonder what she'd do if she knew you were tailing her on a date like a psycho-stalker."

"Fuck you, Ope."

Ten minutes later, Jax sighs with relief. The fates have finally shown him some mercy after a completely shitty night as McKay drives Tara straight home. He and Opie sit on their bikes in the Winston driveway (partially hidden by Mary Winston's car so they don't look like pathetic, spying idiots - which Opie said was pretty much too late). Jax tenses when he sees McKay open Tara's car door and escort her to her front door. Her dad's Cutlass isn't in the driveway so the house is empty. He feels his blood pressure spiking again.

"Relax, bro." Opie hands him a cigarette – probably to keep him from chewing off his thumbnail.

Instead, Jax nearly sets his fingers on fire trying to light the match while watching intently as a smiling Tara talks softly to her shithead date. A calming smoke becomes moot as he winds up crushing the cigarette when McKay leans down to claim Tara's mouth. But before Jax can pounce, she steps away, smiles goodnight and goes inside – without her date, who stands there for a moment before getting into his car and driving away.

Opie breaks the silence, "I'm going to the Club, time to have some fun," he looks at Jax pointedly. "It's not even eleven, Old Man Knowles won't be home for hours – longer if he spends another night in the drunk tank." And with that, he rides off knowing that Jax would not be going to the Club with him.

Jax watches Opie ride off and then turns to stare at Tara's front door, walking towards it slowly. It's the point of no return. He finally admits to himself that he has been avoiding her deliberately; knows he's not entirely comfortable with his confused feelings for the girl he's known pretty much his entire life. This new, crazy possessiveness and intense sexual attraction combined with the bone deep affection he's always had for her scares the shit out of him. If he makes the next move, he knows his life will change dramatically. If she doesn't return his feelings and turns him down, then he'd lose her as a friend because he knows now that he can't be "just friends" with her because he'll always want more. But then if she does welcome this change to their relationship, it would be the first time so much of his happiness could be wrapped up in a single person. Both options are equally terrifying. But it's the latter that keeps him striding towards her front door and ringing the doorbell.

She's still wearing the sexy camisole and tight jeans that she wore at the party, but her long hair, which had been flowing straight and sleek down her back, is now in its usual pony tail. His fingers itch to pull it free.

"Jax? Are you okay? Is something wrong at the Winston's?" She looks worried and steps aside to let him in so she can peer out the door at her neighbor's house, as if expecting to see emergency vehicles lining the Winston driveway.

He shakes his head, shuts and locks the door before pulling her into his arms. He smiles broadly and gazes down into her beautiful, albeit startled, face before slanting his mouth over hers. Stunned surprise renders her momentarily immobile, then those slender arms wrap around his waist and she kisses him back with equal ferocity. His knees nearly buckle in relief and desire as she wraps her tongue around his. She moves her hands under his shirt to feel the hot skin of his back. He pulls her hair out of ponytail holder and runs his hands through the soft, silky mass. He squeezes her tighter so that he can feel the press of those lush breasts against him and grind his hard cock against her. He wants to pull off that camisole and see for himself if her nipples are as pink as he envisioned just a few months ago.

"Tara," he groans, dragging his mouth from hers to nibble on her neck. She immediately begins to rub against him harder, gripping his ass with both hands. "Oh shit, you make me so crazy," he breathes into her neck, licking at the soft skin and savoring her moans of pleasure as she trembles in his arms.

Then her hands still, and she pulls away slightly to stare at him, her green eyes bright with newly awakened desire. She presses a hand to his cheek, "Jax, what are we doing? What is this?"

She's confused. Well good; that makes both of them. He's not entirely sure he knows what he's doing; he just knows that he's done seeing her with other guys. Which means he needs to claim her for himself. But before he can stumble through an explanation, her always nimble brain jumps to the logical conclusion when it comes to his reputation with the female gender.

"I'm not ready to have sex yet," she tells him softly, pulling out of his arms. "I can't be as casual about it as you are."

He wants to tell her that nothing is casual for him when it comes to her. Yes, he wants to fuck her in the worst way. But he also wants to wait until she's completely ready because when it does finally happen between them, he knows it will be life altering. For now, he's willing to take whatever she's willing to give him because even the smallest part of her would dwarf anything he could ever want from anyone else.

"I didn't come here for that, Tara," he assures her, drawing her back to him. It's not exactly a lie; he really didn't come to her expecting sex, but a man can always hope. "I just want you to know that I want to be more than friends with you. I've wanted that for a long time now but just wasn't sure whether I'd be ready for it, that you'd be ready for it. I've never felt like this before." As soon as the words leave his mouth, he knows there's no way he could have ever said any of this stuff to anyone else and not feel like a complete pussy. But with Tara - like all things - everything is different, special, better.

"I'll wait for as long as it takes, Tara." He strokes her face, savoring the feel of her soft skin and the beauty of those mossy green eyes.

She gives him a slow, gorgeous smile, "Do you want to stay here tonight? I'm sure there are other fun things we can do," her smile turns impish, teasing as she plays with the zipper on his hoodie. Not wanting to waste a single minute, he grins, lifts her over his shoulder and makes a quick beeline for her bedroom, stroking that perfect ass while she squeals in delight.

* * *

He was right; her nipples are indeed pale pink, thick and suckable and highly sensitive. He's very proud of himself that he's been able to make her come just by suckling, licking and nibbling on those tight pink buds – over and over. During the long summer days and nights, Jax becomes a diligent student of Tara Knowles; taking his time to learn everything there is to know about pleasuring her body. Besides those delicious nipples, he learns that her neck is also incredibly sensitive. Even the slightest pressure from his hands or lips on the sides or back of her neck, and she's ready to tear off his clothes. He knows exactly where on her body to touch, stroke and kiss to make her tremble with passion, moan with desire and scream with ecstasy.

During her more intense orgasms, she practically chants his name over and over; fuck, does he loves that. But the absolute best is knowing that, despite her reserved demeanor with most people, she can be aggressive and playful and rather adventurous with him. They could be at the movies, at the diner eating burgers or at the ice cream parlor, and suddenly he'd feel her soft, magical hand in his lap stroking him, rubbing him until he'd be rock hard and near insane. Then she would drag him into the nearest bathroom, closet, backseat or dense set of bushes and finish him off with her lush pink lips, nimble tongue and hot mouth. Shit, it's amazing for him to realize that – despite the dozens of sexual encounters he'd had before Tara – none had ever been this intense, this mind-blowing, this fucking hot and they've not even had actual sex yet.

He knows he's in deep shit with her, but that's okay because he also knows that she's in equally deep shit with him. Despite her passionate, sensually adventurous nature - she'd actually never done most of the stuff she'd done with him with anyone else. He knows he's a total fucking hypocrite, but it's a damn good thing no other guy has ever made her come or been inside her or has had his naked dick anywhere near her, because he honestly thinks he could kill any guy who had carnal knowledge of his girl. Tara Knowles belongs to him and he intends to keep it that way.

* * *

Opie mocks him, making whipping noises whenever it's just the two of them - which Opie points out is not as often anymore because Jax can't walk from here to there, blow his nose or wipe his ass without talking about, talking to or touching his girlfriend. Of course, he keeps his teasing to a minimum when Tara is with them. Being the only children of dysfunctional marriages on top of having grown up next door to each other, Opie and Tara are the closest to brother and sister the other has. And being all of four months older than her, Opie feels a big brother's need, not only to protect her, but also to harass the living shit out of her boyfriend.

"It's super cute to see you this way, Jackson," he coos in a sing-song voice just as Tara walks through the door, and Jax lights up like a Christmas tree.

"Shut the fuck up," Jax growls, but he can't keep the smile off his face as he goes to grab her hand.

* * *

Jax's sixteenth birthday falls during one of the last weekends of summer; it's a huge deal as he'll finally get the Harley and cut that he's been dreaming of owning since childhood. Once he turns sixteen, he'll finally be a Prospect - the first step to fulfilling his father's legacy. So Gemma is both surprised and furious when he tells her that he wants the SAMCRO party that she's planning for him to be the day after his birthday because he wants to do something else on the actual date.

"You're shitting me," she yells at him in disbelief. "What could possibly be more important than celebrating with the Club? With your Brothers?" And four months ago, he would have agreed with her.

"Listen Mom, I still plan to celebrate with everyone. Just a day later; I don't see the big deal. Opie and I have plans with some kids from school on the actual day." It's not exactly a lie; he has been making plans to celebrate his birthday – just not with Opie. "Besides, it's better to have that party on the Saturday anyway. Gives the charters and nomads another day to get here."

He'd been preparing his line of reasoning for days, knowing that Gemma would fight him on the decision, and possibly question his priorities. She continues to rail at him – especially when he tells her that he doesn't plan on waiting until the party to get his Harley. Days later, she finally concedes when she realizes that he – the one actually having the birthday – was not going to back down. But Gemma Teller is no one's pushover; he knows she suspects that he's keeping something from her (which he is), and she'll get it out of him eventually.

On the day of his birthday, he finally gets his long-awaited Harley. It's a special moment at TM; Gemma, Clay and all his Brothers – Opie, Piney, Otto, Bobby, Chibs and Tig are there to congratulate him with hugs – and ribbing - all around. Gemma is still suspicious over his birthday plans, shooting him and Opie calculated glances as they both marvel over the new bike. "You two have fun today," she prods, waiting for one of them to crack.

Opie, the best friend a guy could ever have, shoots Jax a broad grin, "Oh _WE_ will."

* * *

Now that he has his Harley, he wants to take Tara to one of his favorite spots – a secluded park near the base of Mt. Walker, about an hour's ride from Charming, where JT used to take him and Tommy on overnight camping trips. Jax had loved it there but hadn't been able to bring himself to go back since his old man died. Now he wants to share this special place with his special girl.

Tara has never been on a motorcycle before; he can tell she's both excited and apprehensive. "Babe, I promise, it's totally safe," he assures her. "I've been riding my whole life. My old man taught me, and he was the best." He feeds her soft, pecking kisses until she completely melts and climbs on behind him. As she wraps her arms around his middle, he realizes he's made one miscalculation – yeah, he's been riding pretty much most of his life, but he's never had the luscious body of Tara Knowles pressed against his back, her long legs open and rubbing against his. Shaking his head ruefully, he pulls out of her driveway; an hour on a rumbling Harley with a raging erection was going to be interesting. Hopefully he doesn't do anything to embarrass himself or get them killed.

She loves it; he can tell right away. Her face is flushed, and there's an exultant sparkle to those green eyes as she beams at him. "That was incredible!" She grabs his face and plants a smacking kiss on his lips. He pulls her even closer and starts nibbling on the sensitive skin on her neck, savoring her breathy moans. "You're incredible, Tara."

He sets up a tent, but it's late summer in Northern California so the air's still warm despite the setting sun. After a light dinner, they decide it's too nice not to sleep outside and cuddle inside the makeshift bed Tara's made with their sleeping bags. It's a clear night with a full moon and brightly lit stars so he can see her beautiful face clearly. For several long moments, all he can do is stare in wonder at how lucky he is to have her in his life.

"Happy Birthday, Jax," she whispers in his ear, her warm breath sending shivers down his spine. She presses hot, wet kisses against his throat, hardening his dick more than he thought possible. He moves to claim her mouth while she strokes and rubs him through his tented jeans. She smiles as he moans her name; pulling down his zipper and the top of his boxers to grasp his cock. He's hard and hot and wet against her hand. She reaches down to cup his balls, fondling the sacs gently, knowing how ultra-sensitive he is there, "Fuck, Tara, that feels so fucking good," he gasps against her neck, sucking the sensitive skin, making her moan his name and grip him harder.

"Please babe, got to slow down," he pants as he grinds against her hand. She gives his balls a firm squeeze that elicits another loud moan and string of curses from him, then switches to one finger to stroke the head of his cock - smearing the wetness across the smooth and slippery dome. When she removes her hand altogether, he jerks out of his blissful daze and stares into her smoldering green eyes.

"I love how you taste," she lifts her finger, wet from his pre-come, and sucks it slowly into her mouth. "I want to drink more later," she promises suggestively. He feels his cock jerk against her thigh as he surges up to claim her mouth in a bruising kiss.

After the highly arousing tongue duel, she breaks away and pushes him back into the sleeping bag. She sits up to pull off her hoodie, and he notices that she's wearing that sexy, green button-down camisole that had driven him crazy before. She traces the shell of his ear with her tongue before whispering that she's not wearing a bra, just for him. His self-control snaps; he pushes her down on her back and tears open her camisole so those glorious, lush breasts are bare and ready for his hands to fondle and his mouth to suck. She rears up in anticipation, and he opens his mouth to take in as much of her right breast as he can. But his girl is more than a mouthful, and he loves it. Loves it.

"Jax, oh god Jax," she gasps, her hands tunneling through his hair, gripping tightly. "Fuck me, baby. Now," she moans louder as his tongue presses her nipple against the roof of his mouth, "Now."

He pulls away slighting, raising himself up on not-so-steady arms to stare at her, hoping to god that he's hearing her right. "Tara," he strokes her face, "Are you sure?" He hates asking that question, giving her an out, but he wants her to want him inside her – as much as he's been dying for it. Hedging his bets, he starts ripping open her jeans.

"I brought condoms," she pants as he finds and rubs her clit, again and again. Her head rolls back in ecstasy as he drives one and then two long fingers inside her while he continues to press his thumb against her clit, "Fuck me," she cries out, "Jax, please."

He doesn't need to be asked again. He rips off her jeans and underwear and then reaches over to his bag (strategically placed next to his head) for his condoms. Quickly, he rips open the foil and sheaths himself. Rising above her, he settles between her open thighs. He braces himself with one hand next to her head while cupping a bare breast with the other. He bends his head to lick her nipple, each tongue lash harder and wetter than the other until she's chanting his name.

He spreads her legs wider and enters her slowly, pushing through her hot, slick folds. Fuck, she's so wet and so tight, he has to hold himself still otherwise he'd come right there. His eyes slide to the back of his head; the pleasure so intense.

He feels the pinch of her short nails into his back, and he reminds himself again that he needs to go slow; it's her first time, and he'd die if he hurt her. Slowly, slowly he pushes forward, piercing the barrier that causes her to whimper in pain, "It's ok, babe," he croons to her, softly kissing her forehead, "I'll make it good. I promise."

Finally, he's fully embedded, breathing hard and ready to explode. But he can't move yet, not until he knows she's alright.  
"Babe," he presses another kiss to her forehead. "Look at me," he begs, almost desperately. Those long, long lashes flutter open and he's nearly impaled by the force of those beautiful green eyes staring up at him with such trust, "You, okay?" he grunts as he feels her muscles start to contract, squeezing his already too-eager cock. She nods and rears up to stroke his lips with a lingering kiss. With that he snaps to action and starts to pump, driving his cock inside her, deeper and deeper. He hears her scream his name, feels her wet heat gushing over his cock as her long legs tighten around his waist. He's coming apart – the pressure starting from the top of his head, shooting intense waves of ecstasy down his neck and spine, clenching his ass and emptying his balls as he comes and comes and comes.

Jax knows that he's probably crushing her, but he can't find the strength to move. Like he's been paralyzed by the sheer force of the strongest orgasm he's ever experienced. He tries to catch his breath as he looks down at her gazing at him, a smile lighting up that beautiful face. He's hit by a rush of emotion so profound, so intense that he can't speak.

"Happy birthday, baby" she beams up at him, stroking his wet face with her soft, warm hand. Fuck, he hopes he's just been sweating profusely. After all, his little virgin has wrung him dry. Had he really cried while making love to her?

He stares at her as if memorizing her beautiful, smiling face in this moment and is suddenly overwhelmed by a powerful surge of emotions; affection, joy, protectiveness – it's as if he's always felt those things with her. But now there's one more, one that's been bubbling to the surface for months, maybe even years. One that he'd felt before for family, for friends – but never this deep, this consuming. He knows what it is, knows that it's real, knows that it's forever. He opens his mouth to speak and swallows hard as she continues to stroke his face; fuck, were those tears prickling his eyes again?

"I love you, Tara."

She says nothing and, for a heartbeat, he panics. She pulls his head down to rain soft kisses on his face, his lips. But before he can deepen the kiss, she pulls away, and her deep green gaze bores into him.

"I love you, too, Jax. So much. So much."

* * *

"What the hell's a matter with you, boy?" For the hundredth time, he glances at the Clubhouse entrance; nervous energy driving him to pace back and forth around the room, chain smoking cigarettes and chugging beer like water. The SAMCRO party is in full swing, and he'd spent the early part of the night playing the role of Jax Teller, Biker Prince, greeting and catching up with Brothers from different charters who made the trip. But Bobby Munson has known him since he was a kid and can tell something's off.

Opie's supposed to bring Tara to the party, but they're over a half hour late, which worries him. He runs through the events of last night and this morning, smiling to himself at how Tara woke him up with her tongue in his ear and her hand on his dick. He'd taught her how to ride him, and she'd blown his mind. When he dropped her off at home early this afternoon, she'd given him a long, wet kiss and assured him that she'd be here tonight. So where the hell is she?

He tries to play it cool in front of Bobby; wrinkling his eyebrows, pretending to be confused by the question. But after he darts another expectant glance at the Clubhouse entrance, Bobby gets in his face. "You feelin' ok? You know it hasn't gone un-noticed here that you haven't as much as looked at a croweater in months…"

Jax doesn't need this; he'd already had to deal with Gemma this afternoon. As expected, she'd gone poking around and found out that Opie spent last night with Kyle and Lowell partying in Lodi – thus blowing Jax's cover. She was waiting for him when he got home, armed with her intel and suspicions.

_"Any reason why I haven't been introduced to the pussy who has my son jumping around like a goddamn trained seal – not to mention lying to his family?"_

_He knew he shouldn't let her bait him, but he couldn't let this go. Not after last night. "Tara's not pussy, Mom," he snarled and amped the wrath in his glare. "Don't ever talk that way about her again." _

_"Tara? Tara Knowles? Frank's daughter? The little girl that Tommy followed around for months?" _

Jax closes his eyes, cursing his temper. So much for having Tara come to the party under the radar. It's vital to him that she be here, see him get his Prospect cut. However, he didn't want to subject her to the intense scrutiny from his Brothers, not to mention Gemma - which would be inevitable if they know what she meant to him. He shudders at the thought; he needs more time with Tara to cement what they have before he can subject her to his mother.

"Who's the chick with Opie?" Kozik, a Brother from the Tacoma charter, sidles up to Jax and Bobby and points his beer towards the door, "If he ain't laying claim, I'd sure like an introduction…"

Jax whirls around and feels his heart skip an actual fucking beat at the sight of Tara approaching, a bright smile lighting up her face. Shit, it's only been a few hours and he's already missed her so fucking much. How the hell did he think he could keep her under the radar? There's no hiding the most beautiful girl in the world, nor how he feels about her. He places his beer on the bar and grins a warning at Kozik, "She's mine."

* * *

He feels the pain like someone's ripped out his insides. And in a way, Mary Winston leaving town and taking Opie with her is tantamount to that. Born a month apart to fathers who were best friends, he and Opie had pretty much been joined at the hip from an early age. And they shared a destiny to one day lead SAMCRO, which they had always planned to do together. But Mary doesn't want her only son following in his father's footsteps and decides to take him away weeks before Opie turns sixteen and gets his Prospect cut.

He and Tara help Opie pack up his stuff, which doesn't turn out to be that much since Opie refuses to take most of it, saying that he plans to be back for extended visits. After loading everything in the car, Jax watches helplessly as Tara throws her arms around Opie's waist and sobs against his chest. Towering over her, Opie strokes her hair and kisses the top of her head. Jax realizes that he's been so caught up in his own misery that he'd forgotten how Opie's departure would hurt her, too. He knows that he and Opie are pretty much the only family she has since her old man certainly doesn't give a shit about her, that drunk bastard.

Struggling to keep his own composure, he envelops Opie in a bear hug, "Take care of yourself, Brother. Get back here soon."

"Yeah, I will." Opie squeezes him back then pulls back and gives him playful shove, "Otherwise I'd miss your ugly face."

Jax can't imagine the long road ahead without his best friend; hadn't ever even considered it. As they watch Opie and Mary drive away, Tara grips his arm and squeezes his hand. He lifts their entwined hands and presses a kiss to her fingers before wrapping his arms around her.

When Mary's car disappears, Tara leads him into her house and into her room. She pushes him down to sit on her bed so she can straddle his lap. She tucks his hair behind his ears, then strokes his face. "I love you, Jackson." She kisses his cheek, "Love you." And his forehead, "Love you more than anything." When he finally breaks down and buries his face into her neck, she holds him tightly. "I'm here, baby. I'm here."


	4. Hold on to These Simple Moments

**Chapter 3: HOLD ON TO THESE SIMPLE MOMENTS**

_"Shit, his blood pressure's dropping. We're gonna lose him!" _

_Sitting in the back of the ambulance, Patterson watches in alarm as the paramedics work quickly and methodically to save Jackson Teller. She can't help but find it ironic that they're all striving to save the life of a man who could be responsible for more death than they could possibly imagine. But she doesn't want him to die; she needs him alive. Two good people are dead, brutally murdered, and he could be key – if not the answer – to finding out what happened. Also, as a mother, she can't help but grieve for those two baby boys who lost their mother last night. Hopefully they won't have to lose their father as well._

* * *

Jax isn't used to competing for a woman's attention. Pretty much since the day he was born, he'd been a beacon for feminine interest – never really having to work to get what he wanted from women, when he wanted it. So he's at a total fucking loss when his own girlfriend isn't fully available to him.

Over the summer, he and Tara were virtually inseparable; it was impossible for them to be apart even for a few minutes, impossible for one not to be touching the other. Once Jax discovered how truly fucking amazing it felt to be completely connected to her - he didn't want to be anywhere else, with anybody else. And he knows by the way she looks at him, smiles at him, touches him that she feels the same intense pull that burns in him for her.

But now that school's started again, he hates that he has to share her with teachers and classes and homework and all the other shit that keeps her away from him. He spends every night with her, wakes up every morning with her, steals time between classes with her; it just never seems to be enough. It's like his head, his heart and his dick are in an endless state of craving that has him constantly thinking up ways to be with her.

Just like their freshman year, Tara's gifted brain results in a school schedule made up of advanced classes that he could never hope to share with her. Except for one. Surprising Tara, the teacher and himself - he asks for a chance to test into the Honors English class; apparently there's nothing he won't do to get more time with his girl. Fortunately, all those afternoons spent reading books together pays off, and he gets into the class. And secures the services of a gorgeous, sexy tutor to boot.

"Shit, this has got to be the longest book ever…" He feels like he's been reading forever, but the end doesn't seem to be anywhere in sight. Nestled against him, reading her own copy, Tara looks up and smiles, "Jax, this is the abridged version. The actual book is about a thousand pages long. Consider yourself lucky."

Putting her book down, she straddles his lap and wraps her arms around him. "I would've thought these macho action novels would be right up your alley, Mr. SAMCRO," she teases, placing a light kiss on his lips. "Prison break, revenge…all we're missing is a high speed car chase."

"Don't think they had those things in 19th century France, Knowles," he counters, pulling her tight against him. "It's not that I don't like it; story's actually pretty good – just a lot of crap about nothing in between the good parts." Speaking of good parts, he nuzzles her neck and squeezes that incredible ass with both hands.

"Yeah, I guess," she murmurs, her fingers tunneling through his hair. "To be honest, I don't really get it. If I escaped from prison like him, I'd disappear. Wouldn't go back and risk getting caught."

"No way, babe." He slowly, wetly licks her neck and smiles when she shivers and grinds against him, "Got to make those assholes pay for stealing his life…." He lifts his hands from her ass to start unbuttoning her blouse, "...and stealing his girl. Well that's the worst." He opens the front clasp of her bra and sucks on a rosy pink nipple, absolutely loving how the soft bud hardens against his tongue. "Man, I'd kill anyone who tried to do that."

* * *

School's not the only problem; he finds that his new responsibilities as a Prospect also pose a threat to their time together.

Gemma won't allow Clay to put him to work during school hours, so after school and on weekends he's required to be at Teller Morrow to work at the garage until the Club needs him for something, anything. Consequently, Jax abandons any previous notions of keeping Tara away from the Club or Gemma and brings her with him every time he can. He needs her close to him, even if it means catching shit from his Brothers when they see how bad he really has it for her. Although after his Prospect party, he supposes they know - especially after he uncharacteristically warned off Kozik in front of Bobby and then disappeared with her, less than an hour after she showed up with Opie.

Gemma is another story; she's clearly not happy with his relationship with Tara. Although he's not sure whether her objection is with Tara personally or the fact that he has a girlfriend at all. He suspects the later and not just because he can't fathom anyone having a beef with Tara. Even before he got involved with Tara, Gemma had warned him about distractions; that he had to be focused, committed and not let anything or anyone get in the way of his destiny to one day lead SAMCRO. He agreed with his mother then and now; he just doesn't see how being in love with Tara could possibly interfere with him fulfilling that destiny. Tara knows how important JT and the Club are to him; the night of his Prospect party she had beamed proudly at him when he put his cut on for the first time. Also, being with her makes him happy, happier than he'd ever been in his life. So in his mind, there's no reason why his endgame couldn't include both SAMCRO and Tara – the gavel in his hand and the girl he loves by his side. If Gemma can't see the perfection in that, well that was her problem.

"You sure you want to be doin' this?" Piney asks him one afternoon. Jax has one eye on the engine he's helping Piney repair and the other one on Tara doing homework at the picnic table just outside the garage. "Tara's a good girl; you might want to think about some of the shit she might see, bein' here all the time."

It's been three months since he received his Prospect patch; three months of eye-opening shit that he never dreamed in a million years that the Club would do for cash, for leverage, for retaliation. It had shaken him at first, but it didn't take him long to realize that he loved the thrill, the adrenaline rush that surged through him each time he rode out with his Brothers. He knows that there's more shit that they're keeping from him until he's older; but instead of scaring him, he can't fucking wait.

That doesn't mean he wants Tara anywhere near the Club's darker side; he's careful about what he tells her when she asks about what they do, careful about the people he lets her meet. But he needs her to be here – for her to accept his Brothers and for his Brothers to accept her; the Club is part of him, his future – and if he's lucky, a future she'll share with him.

"She'll be fine," he tells Piney. "The guys know that they can't say shit around her – or any of the other chicks here."

"Tara's smarter than your average croweater, boy." Piney informs him, as if Jax didn't already know. "Smarter than anyone here – me and you included. So you'd better know how to handle her and how to keep her safe if shit goes sideways, 'cause it always does."

"I'd never let anyone hurt Tara," Jax vows coldly, "Not anyone or anything." He stares hard at Piney then looks down at the engine. "I just need her here. With me." When he looks back up, the man who was his dad's best friend is grinning at him.

"Hell kid, you really have it bad," Piney chuckles then looks over to the now empty picnic table. "Although looks like you're just as shitty at baby sittin' as you are at fixin' engines."

Frowning, Jax quickly scans the area around the picnic table noting that all of Tara's books and papers are gone as well.

"Probably went inside," Piney surmises. "Go," he releases Jax for the afternoon. "Just hope that she doesn't run into Tig. There's somethin' wrong with that guy."

Inside the Clubhouse, he finds her almost immediately; stopping dead in his tracks. Tara is bent over the pool table lining up her shot while the rest of the guys stand behind her, admiring the view. Jax grits his teeth, trying not to be annoyed at all these assholes ogling his girlfriend.

Apparently not sensing his agitation, Lowell walks over to him, smiling smugly. "I bet Tig a hundred bucks that a girl could take him three games in a row." The admission shakes Jax out of his ill temper, and he smirks knowingly at Lowell. Tara Knowles, Pool Shark. Tig wouldn't know about the countless number of times Tara had totally smoked him, Lowell, Opie or anyone dumb enough to challenge her at pool. Piney had taught them all how to play on the pool table in the Winston basement. However, it didn't take Tara long to out-master the master and crush them all. When it came to anything that required concentration and a steady hand, Tara owned it.

In less than an hour, she and Lowell are a hundred dollars richer, leaving a red-faced Tig to the mercy of the heckling audience. Jax grins as she walks over to him, loving the bright gleam in those green eyes. "Hi, baby," she sighs, wrapping her arms around him, sinking those soft hands into his back pockets, cupping his ass.

"Ice cream's on me, Teller," she smiles up at him before he claims her mouth in a smoldering kiss.

* * *

Jax knew it was inevitable by the way they'd been carrying on for the past year and a half, but it still stings when Gemma tells him that she's going to marry Clay. It's been about eighteen months since JT died so the pain's still fresh for him; he can't understand how his mother could move on and replace his dad so quickly. He can't look at her; can't stand to be here in this house - where his dad had lived and now where his mom plans to live with another man. Turning on his heels, he storms out, ignoring her pleas to come back and talk about to her.

Jumping on his Harley, he thinks about just taking off – riding to no place in particular, riding until the pain that's choking him is nothing but dust under his wheels. But then he knows there's really only one place he wants to be, needs to be.

The Cutlass is in the driveway; it's still pretty early in the evening so Old Man Knowles hasn't gone out yet. He decides to wait for Tara's dad to leave; he hates the way the man treats his daughter so he avoids all contact, knowing he may not be able to stop himself from beating the man senseless. But after sitting on his bike for five minutes, he can't wait anymore; he needs her now. Bracing himself, he walks to the door and rings the bell.

"Jax? What's wrong?" She can read him like no other; concern sweeps across her face as she immediately senses his disquiet.

"Come with me, Tara," he grips her slender arms. "Please."

Nodding, she lets him pull her down the steps to his bike. She asks no questions; just straps on the helmet and wraps her arms around his waist as he guns the engine and takes off into the night.

Jax drives them to the park a few miles away; it's deserted, but he rides to the secluded spot that they discovered months before. He barely waits for her to remove the helmet before he pulls her into his arms, burying his face into her shoulder.

"Baby, what is it? Tell me…" She rubs his back with those soft yet strong and soothing hands; he feels the tension that's been threatening to break him start to melt away.

He pulls away enough to stare into her beautiful face, softly illuminated by the star-lit night, keeping his arms wrapped around her. "Gemma told me that she's marrying Clay next week. Next-fucking-week."

She reaches up to push a lock of hair behind his ear then strokes his cheek; "I'm sorry, Baby. It's been a year and a half since JT died, right?" He nods, and she pulls his head down to kiss him softly then continues to caress his face. "Maybe she's lonely, Jax. I'm not trying to justify anything, I barely know your mom. But we all have our own ways of coping with loss. Some people just can't be alone."

"She's not alone," he huffs. "She has me."

Tara lifts a perfectly shaped brow, "And where are you now? Where have you been the past few months?" Giving him a soft smile, she pulls out of his arms, "Not that I'm complaining, Teller." She reaches over to pull out the blanket he always has rolled up and attached to his bike. He watches her spread the blanket under the tree, sit down and extend her hand out to him. He's not happy that Tara might be able to see his mother's side in this shit, but he can't resist the lure of her. Sitting down next to her, he pulls her into his arms again, tucking her head under his chin so he can savor the scent and softness of her hair.

"When my mom died, my dad was never the same." She links his hands with hers, "When she was alive, he was a pretty cool dad sometimes. But when we lost her, he just gave up. Nothing matters to him anymore: not me or his job or his health – he just keeps drinking more and more. He stopped living years ago; just going through the motions. Maybe if he had found someone else, he wouldn't be so lost. You don't want that life for your mom, Jax." She shifts so she can stare into his eyes, cradle his face in her soft hands. "Your mother loves you, Jax. But she didn't die with your dad. Moving on may be the only way that she can stay with the living, so that she can stay with you."

His throat is too tight; he can't speak. But he can grab her and hang onto her with all the strength he has. He kisses the top of her head again and again until he finally manages to get his emotions under control. He presses his forehead to hers, "I love you, Tara." He clasps her hands in his, squeezing tight. "I love you so much."

* * *

It's a warm night in late spring for Gemma and Clay's wedding. They're getting married in his backyard, and the house and yard are crammed with SAMCRO members, their Old Ladies and all sorts of assorted guests. Jax is still not happy about his mom getting married so soon, but after listening to Tara's perspective, he's at least at peace with the idea.

Tara. He smiles as she drifts into his thoughts for the millionth time today; he never thought he could ever love anyone as much as he loves her. Slammed all day with wedding preparations, he hasn't had a chance to see or talk to her since leaving her bed this morning, and he's ready to climb the walls. But he made sure that Gemma invited her as there's no way he's getting through this without his girl by his side. She's coming tonight with Piney and Opie – another reason to celebrate as Opie finally convinced Mary to let him move back to Charming. Jax has his best friend back.

"Your hot girlfriend gonna be here tonight?" Kozik greets him with a smile and an affectionate slap on the back. Jax really likes Kozik, always has, but he has no tolerance for any man's interest in Tara. He glares at his Brother. "Yeah, stay from her." Kozik just laughs and walks off.

"Jax!" He knows that voice. Grinning broadly, he turns around to greet Opie – relishing the giant sight of his best friend before pulling him into a crushing hug. "How you doin', Bro?" He pounds Opie's back with heartfelt slaps and feels Opie do the same to him.

"Can't complain." Opie looks around, surveying the wedding madness around them. "This is some spread. You okay with everything?" Yeah, his best friend knows him well.

"Gettin' through it," he replies, then frowns when he realizes that Opie's alone. "Where's Tara? I thought she was coming with you guys." He starts to scan the throng of party guests almost frantically.

"Relax, Bro." Opie pulls two beers off a waiter's tray and hands one to Jax. "She's here somewhere. Got waylaid by your mom when we walked in the door."

Jax eyes narrow. Holy shit, if his mother said anything to her to upset her there'd be hell to pay. "What? What did Gemma say to her?"

But before Opie can reply, he sees Tara gliding towards them, that gorgeous smile lighting up his world. She looks amazing; her hair pulled up in a soft twist, framing that beautiful face, and wearing a pale green dress that makes his hands itch to touch her. Held up by thin spaghetti straps, the dress clings to the curves of her breasts then flows all the way down to the ground in loose swirls. Although hidden, her long legs look even longer as he realizes that she's probably wearing heels. He can't wait to wrap those legs around him, heels and all. He feels his heart start to pound as he smiles back at her.

"Shit, it's worse." Opie laughs, giving him another sound slap on his shoulder. Before he can tell Opie to fuck off (like old times), Tara is there pulling his head down for a kiss. "Hi Baby," she whispers against his lips then reaches down to squeeze his hand. He lifts their linked hands to his mouth so he can kiss her fingers. "Definitely worse," he hears Opie say.

When Lowell and Kyle pull Opie away for some catch-up, Jax finds a semi-secluded spot to greet his girlfriend properly. "You look beautiful," he tells her, stroking her bare shoulders and pressing slow, soft kisses to her lips. Then remembering what Opie told him, "What did Gemma say to you when you got here?"

"Wow, I never knew Opie was such a gossip," she smiles up at him. "She just thanked me for coming. It was nice." He must have looked skeptical. "Really, Jax. I was surprised because I know she doesn't like me." He frowns knowing that his mother's usual coldness is a sore spot for his girl. Tara pretends it doesn't bother her, but he knows some small part of her seeks his mother's approval as if to somehow fill the void of losing her own mother. He squeezes her tighter.

"Well it looks like everything's about to start." He sees Clay signaling him and reluctantly releases her. "I'll find you after the ceremony."

"You'd better." She gives him a saucy smile, pulls something out of the hidden slit pocket of her dress and leans closer to him. He tightens his grip on her shoulder, instantly alert; she usually flashes him that smile right before she's about to rock his world. "I'm not wearing anything under this dress," she whispers hotly in his ear. He freezes, feeling her fingers putting something into his pocket. "You can put this back on me later." She presses a wet kiss to his neck, gives him a sizzling smile and then walks off to sit near the Winstons.

He stares after her dumbly. Reaching into his pocket, he feels the familiar silky fabric. Holy fuck, his girlfriend isn't wearing underwear because her panties are in his pocket. He starts to laugh; well she managed to put a smile on his face so he can walk his mother down the aisle without scowling. But he needs to do something real quick to get rid of his hard-on or people are gonna get the wrong fucking idea.

The ceremony lasts too goddamn long, and there's too many fucking people in his way. Jax's patience is starting to wear thin as all he can think about is the silky weight in his pocket and that somewhere in this horde, his girlfriend is surrounded by SAMCRO bikers while wearing nothing under her dress.

He spots Opie first, easy to do since he and Piney tower over most people; Tara is standing next to him sipping champagne. He starts to breathe easier until he sees that Kozik's on her other side, and she's smiling over something that he's saying to her. Fuck, did people from Tacoma not understand English? What part of "stay away from her" did Kozik not understand? Opie must have seen him approaching, must have seen the expression on his face because he rolls his eyes, apologizes to Tara and then drags Kozik away to the next room.

Jax greets Tara with a hard kiss that no doubt gets the rest of the room buzzing, takes her champagne glass from her and then pulls her out of the room. He ignores all the people who try to greet them, saying nothing even when she tugs on his hand, "Jax, where are we going?" Not stopping until he's locked them in his bedroom.

"Fuck, you make me crazy, Tara." He gives her another hard kiss, unzipping the back of her dress and pulling the straps down to see for himself that her breast are bare underneath. He groans when her thick pink nipples come into view. He cups her breasts, pushes them together, sucking one nipple then the other, over and over until she's panting his name.

He pushes her down onto the bed and moves down her body, lifting the skirt of dress, bunching it to her waist. Christ, she's beautiful; he swallows hard, admiring those long legs, slim thighs and dark curls. She's wet; he can see the moisture glistening in those curls, on the inside of her thighs. "Jax," she moans his name, running her fingers through his hair, "I need you…"

He spreads her thighs wider, draping her legs over his shoulders and then sinks his tongue into her wet heat. "Jax, oh god, Jax." She's grips his hair when he replaces his tongue with his fingers and starts sucking her clit. Fuck, he loves the taste and feel and smell of her. He's prodding her clit with his tongue - his fingers still inside her - when she comes, drenching his hands and mouth. He laps it all up and then climbs over her, planting his hands on either side of her head. Her nipples are still hard, still wet from his thorough suckling and he licks them both once, twice before he devours her mouth.

She starts tearing at his clothes; together, they pull off his cut and open his shirt. He shrugs out of his shirt while she strokes his nipples, rearing up to suck one into her hot mouth. "Shit, babe." He's momentarily paralyzed by how good that feels. Still sucking his nipple, she attacks his fly, yanking down his zipper and boxers. He closes his eyes and grits his teeth as she pleasures his cock - fondling his balls with one hand while massaging the wet tip with the other.

"Hold on, babe." He leans back so he could pull off her dress and rip off his pants. He digs through his drawer for a condom; sheathing himself quickly – despite his shaking hands. He sits down on the bed and pulls her on top of him, impaling her on his stiff cock. He latches his mouth to her neck, sucking strongly, while his hands cup those lush breasts, his thumbs rubbing her nipples. She rides him hard, her inner muscles squeezing his dick while she rocks up and down in a rhythm they've practiced over and over. She pulls his mouth on to hers and within minutes they're coming together, gasping each other's name while clinging tightly to one another.

He doesn't know how long they stay in his room, arms and legs entwined. "We should go back to the party." She strokes his hair while he buries his face in her breasts. "People are probably looking for you." She sighs when he drops slow kisses on her softening nipples and then plants her own slow kiss on his damp forehead.

Reluctantly, he gets up and starts pulling on his clothes. He watches her brush the wrinkles out of her dress and then slide it over her head. Frowning, he pulls her underwear out of his pocket. "Hey, you need to put this on." He pushes her into a sitting position and then slowly puts her panties on her, one leg at a time and then pulling up; smirking as she squeals when his fingers brush her clit. "I'd go crazy seeing you around other guys knowing you didn't have any underwear on. But don't worry, babe." He covers her mouth in a brief, yet scorching kiss. "I promise I'll take them off again real soon."

* * *

He'd never really cared before about final exams; never really gave a shit about his grades. He knows that teachers wouldn't flunk him because they didn't want him back in their classes the next year. But when it comes to school and grades, Tara is all business. Always has been.

Three weeks before finals she starts studying, and if he wants to spend time with her – which he always does – he has to study, too. Opie's amused and Gemma's incredulous, especially when she sees Tara quizzing him at the garage.

The one test he does give a shit about is for his English class. It's the only class he attends regularly - for obvious reasons - and the only class he cares about, not only so he can qualify for another advanced English class with Tara next year, but also because he's actually interested in the books.

Two days before the English final, she devotes herself to help him study. While he and Opie work on an old Dyna, she perches on a workbench, her nose buried in her notebook. "Which of Ernest Hemingway's novels is set during the Spanish Civil War?" She peers at him from around the book, smiling. "That's an easy question, Teller."

"That's an easy answer, Babe," he counters. "For Whom the Bells Tolls." He stops working and looks up at her. Hair in a high ponytail and wearing his flannel shirt draped over a blue tank top and jeans, she's both adorable and sexy as hell. He can't resist and walks over to her, pressing a lingering kiss on those impossibly lush pink lips.

"Another macho action novel. This class was right up your alley, Baby." She wraps her arms around him. He steps between her parted thighs and pulls her close. "I loved that book." He nuzzles her neck. "Nothing like a little revolution to get the blood pumping."

"Disillusionment with one's cause, self-sacrifice." She strokes his hair. "What's not to love?"

"I love you," he palms her ass and crushes her mouth to his.

"Jesus Christ, you two need to knock it off before you embarrass Opie," his mother's caustic voice effectively pours cold water over them.

Tara pulls away from him, a faint blush coloring her pale cheeks. But he doesn't let her go; that blush just turns him on even more. "We're just studying, mom. Leave us alone." He doesn't have to turn around to know that Opie's hiding a grin and Gemma's gritting her teeth. He keeps his gaze focused on Tara until she slowly starts to smile. "I love you, too, Baby." She grabs his face and kisses him senseless.

"Romeo and Juliet," he hears Opie explain to Gemma. "Guess it's an oral exam."

* * *

Jax gets patched-in to SAMCRO a few months after his seventeenth birthday, after eighteen months as a Prospect. He could have patched-in six months earlier, but he wanted to wait for Opie. In his mind and heart, they're real brothers, and he wanted them to advance together. After all, one day, they'll be running the Club together.

There's a huge party at the Club to celebrate both Jax and Opie; all the charters and nomads come in from all over to join in the revelry. Drunk and high on whiskey, weed and life in general, Jax is jubilant as he accepts all the congratulations, hugs and back pounding from Gemma, Clay, Piney and all his Brothers from up and down the coast. The only person missing is Tara, and he feels her absence keenly. He knows she just started a special program for gifted students to certain shadow doctors at St. Thomas, but surely she wouldn't miss this night, knowing how important it is to him and to Opie. She'll be here, he tells Opie and himself, for the hundredth time.

It's nearly eleven, and now he's drunk, high and pissed. Where the fuck is she? He's sitting on the picnic table bench with Opie smoking yet another joint when a pretty blonde croweater he hadn't seen before straddles his lap. Before he could say or do anything, she pulls the bud from his lips, takes a drag and then sinks her tongue into his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Opie raise his brows in surprise; it's the first time he's had any physical contact with a croweater or any woman since Tara claimed his heart and his dick nearly two years ago. It's either the jarring strangeness of another woman on his lap or all the weed he smoked tonight or both that has him feeling strangely lethargic, passive when she starts grinding against him.

"Oh shit, dude. Stop…" Opie's warning came way too late.

"You fucking son of a bitch!"

All of the sudden, the blonde is pulled off of him forcefully and thrown to the ground. As if in slow motion, he watches the croweater launch herself at her attacker only to get knocked unconscious by a swift and mean right hook. It's enough to shake him out of his stupor; he jumps up to chase after his obviously furious girlfriend, who's charging out the Teller Morrow gate as fast as those long legs could carry her. "Tara, wait!" He scrambles after her, grabbing her arm. She tries to shake off his grip. "Let go of me," she screams at him. Angry tears start to spill from her eyes; he's absolutely gutted by the sight of her crying and drops her arm. "Babe, please, let me explain."

"Just stay away from me!" He watches helplessly as she swipes at her tears with the backs of her hands. "Just stay away…" Her voice breaks, and she runs off leaving him to stare after her, his heart dropping to his feet.

Suddenly, he hears the rumble of a Harley and sees Piney Winston stop in front of him. "Kid, sometimes you are dumber than shit." The old man shakes his head in disgust and drives off after Tara.

Jax lasts exactly fifteen more minutes at his own party before deciding that he couldn't stand being there anymore, couldn't deal with this aching need for Tara. He had to mend this rift with her before it split them apart for good and fucking kills him in the process. "I'm taking off," he tells Opie. "Have fun for the both of us."

"Good luck, Bro." Opie knows exactly where he's headed. "I think you may need it."

Parking his Harley in the Winston driveway, he shoots a silent thank you to the fates that Frank Knowles' Cutlass isn't in the driveway. It's actually still too early for Tara's dad to be home from the bars, but given the shitty turn to Jax's night, he wouldn't be surprised if the asshole caught him trying to break into his daughter's room and have him thrown in jail.

Pulling himself through her window, he spots her immediately. She's changed into the tank top and pajama bottoms that she always wears to sleep. But instead of curled up inside her covers, she's sitting on her perfectly made bed, her arms and head resting on her folded knees while her small body shakes with sobs.

Crossing over to her, he rubs her shoulders and neck while pressing kisses to the top of her head. "Babe, please stop. I'm sorry. It's not what you think…" Watching her cry is killing him, but he doesn't know what to say or do to make her stop. He gathers her into his arms, surprised and thankful that she doesn't resist, "Tara, look at me, please…"

"I hurt that girl." Her voice is muffled against her arms, but he could hear her sorrow, her guilt. She raises her head and just eviscerates him with those heartbreaking green eyes, "Jax, when my dad hits me, at least he's drunk and doesn't know what he's doing. But I wasn't drunk, and I just hit her, made her bleed. Shit, she was knocked her out cold. What does that make me?"

He hugs her tighter then pulls away to stare into her face. "Listen to me, Tara. This is my fault, I let the situation get out of control. Nothing really happened with her, but I should've pushed her away before it went that far. This is not on you, at all. I'm so sorry, babe." He smooths a stray lock of hair from her face, strokes her soft cheek then plants a slow kiss on her lips. "I love you, Tara. I've never loved anyone in my life more than I love you."

She gives him a sad smile. "No one's ever loved me, except you. Maybe that's why I went a little crazy; I don't want to lose that." She burrows her head into his chest as he rests his chin on her head, pulling her even tighter against him. "You'll never lose me, Babe. I will love you until the day I die."


	5. FIND THE THINGS THAT LOVE YOU

**Chapter 4: FIND THE THINGS THAT LOVE YOU**

"_We're looking for Jax Teller."_

_Patterson looks over to the nurse's station as a half dozen or so leather-clad SAMCRO bikers swamp the small hospital receiving area. She recognizes the speaker as Robert Munson, the new SAMCRO President; apparently he'd been selected to take over the MC when Teller stepped down and turned himself in to save Tara. Munson looks as if he's aged ten years in one night; they all do, she realizes after a quick scan of the group. Out of courtesy, Cane had gone to the ice cream shop last night and informed the bikers there of Tara's death and Jax's arrest. According to Cane, the men had taken both pieces of news very hard._

_Cane had also told her that Munson and a few others had shown up at the sheriff's office early this morning demanding to see Teller. But Teller had been in no condition to see anyone. And from what she's seen for herself and heard from the doctor, he wouldn't be for some time._

* * *

Something she said last night gnaws at him. At the time he'd been so desperate to convince her to forgive his stupidity that he missed it. But now that he's thinking clearly, it's all he can think about…

"_When my dad hits me…" _

Frank Knowles is a mean son of a bitch. Some of the vicious barbs and cruel taunts that the man's hurled at his only child could make even the most hardened stoic wince in shock. Jax's lost track of all the times over the years that he's nearly snapped and killed the man with his bare hands. But Tara's made him promise that neither he nor anyone else he knew (read: SAMCRO) would ever confront or touch her father, regardless of the abuse the man leveled at her. If he ever broke that promise, she'd end it with him - no matter how much it would hurt her to do so. And since Jax would do anything to keep her, he'd reluctantly agreed. But he'd never understand the protectiveness she had for the man who hurt her so much.

"_He's my dad, Jax. My only family," she'd explained to him. "I don't want him hurt. But also, if anything happened to him, I'd wind up in the system somewhere in Stockton or Lodi or worse. Have to start all over in a new school, maybe more than one. And they'd separate us for sure. I don't want to be apart from you, Baby - not even for a minute."_

The fear of losing her stills his violent impulses towards her old man; that and telling himself that at least the abuse isn't physical. Since the night that Frank got his ass stomped by Piney for beating his twelve-year-old daughter senseless, he's not laid a hand on her. Or so Tara's led them all to believe. Now he's not so sure, and it's tearing at him.

"Morning…" She's awake and snuggling closer to him. Feeling her smile against his chest, he's overwhelmed by love, affection - and relief. Shit, he dodged a bullet last night. What if she hadn't forgiven him? He'll never forget the panic that tore through his insides when she ran from him, those anxiety-laced minutes it took to get to her house. He'd been ready to get on his knees and beg if that's what it took to get back with her.

"Morning, babe. You sleep ok?" He pulls her even closer to him and kisses her forehead. Actually they hadn't slept much; hadn't been able to keep their hands off each other all night. As if nothing could break them apart as long as he's inside her, their bodies fusing together tightly. "Tara, last night, you said…"

She drags her thumb across his nipple – once, twice – then looks up at him with drowsy green eyes. Jax loses his train of thought as his morning erection jolts into overdrive; his cock swelling, growing brick hard. Fuck it; they can talk about this later, he tells himself as he cups her bare breasts, sucking on those pink nipples until both buds are stiff and she's moaning, spearing her fingers through his hair, tangling her legs with his. Sooner or later he'll find out the truth about her dad, and if his suspicions are confirmed, there'll be hell to pay.

* * *

All Jax's life he's been surrounded by people who've loved him, cared about him, counseled him - family, friends, the Sons. He's never known life without love, loyalty or the bonds of friendship and brotherhood. Those things are as common and essential to him as air and water.

So Tara's relatively solitary life has always been somewhat of a mystery to him. When they were kids, he could never understand why she'd choose to spend so much time alone. It's not because she's shy; hell, far from it – he'd never met a more forthright person not named Gemma Teller. And it's not because people don't like her; she's always gotten along with most of the kids at school, and he knows from infuriating first-hand experience that she could have any guy eating out of her hand. She's just never let people get close to her; he's pretty sure he can count the number of friends she has on one hand - two of them being him and Opie. It's the third one that makes him crazy.

Jax can't remember a time when he didn't despise David Hale - that irritating, shit-don't-stink, smug little prick. He knows that the feeling's mutual, that Hale has equally unflattering things to say about him. He just never gave a shit as long as Hale stayed far away. But for some reason he could never figure out, Tara's always liked Hale. When they were kids, he and Opie had razzed her about her friendship with that tool because they knew that Hale had such a crush on her, but it hadn't really bothered him. Until now.

"I don't know how you can stand that guy." Jax brings it up one day at school after listening to her and Hale make plans to study together that afternoon; apparently Tara's tutoring the dumb prick in just about every class. He grits his teeth and tugs her away, but not before she beams Hale a smile that Jax doesn't like her using on anyone that's not him.

"What's not to like?" She shrugs, leaning into him as he tightens his arm around her shoulders. "He's a really nice guy." There's something she's not telling him; he can feel it, and it pisses him off and scares him at the same time. Insecurity isn't something he's used to feeling, but he's never cared this much before. He doesn't like the idea that Hale might know something about Tara that she's never shared with him. Doesn't like the thought that there might be some bond between them.

"Then lucky for me that you like the bad boys." He hauls her into a hot, rather desperate kiss just as they reach her class. But as if sensing his upset, she pulls away and searches his face. "Something the matter?" she asks, soothing the lines furrowing his brow.

Before he can respond, she surprises him by taking his hand and dragging him outside, not stopping until they reach the bleachers. It's cold outside so the field's deserted with gym classes moved inside for the winter. Stepping up a couple of rows, she sits down and reaches for him.

"Wow, Knowles, you're turning into a bad influence, making me skip class like this," he teases, wrapping his arms around her. Feeling her shiver, he whips off his sweatshirt and tugs it over her head then helps her adjust the big sleeves. He tries not to laugh because she looks like a little kid with her messy ponytail and over-sized sweatshirt. That thought dies instantly when she grabs his face and melts his brain with a scorching kiss.

Ending the kiss, she pulls away, leaving him slightly dazed. "I love you, you know." She stares into his eyes. "Hale's a good friend. I don't have many, so I'd really hate to give up the ones I have."

He feels like a total asshole. "I know Tara. But everyone knows that guy has a thing for you."

"Did you not hear what I just said?" She shakes her head in exasperation and pokes him in the chest. "I love you. You, Jackson Teller. Not him. Not anyone else. You. Do you understand that, or do I need to diagram it out for you in a Harley manual?"

Smiling, he gathers her against him and kisses the top of her head. "I got it, Babe. I love you, too. But it's like you have this connection to him, and…" he breaks off not wanting to sound like a needy, insecure douche.

She says nothing for a few long seconds, staring at the empty football field, before turning to him. "Right after my mom's funeral, my dad disappeared for over a week. I didn't know where he went or if he'd be coming back. It was ok at first, I just went to school as usual. But then we ran out of food, and dad hadn't left me any money. I sat next to Hale in class so he noticed right away when I'd skip out on lunch to go to the library. He started bringing extra lunches and cans of spaghetti-o's the next day. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me. So for a while, I thought that he and Tommy were the only people who cared that I was alive." She smiles sadly at the memory. "I know you and Hale don't like each other so I'm not expecting you guys to become friends. But he's my friend, and all I'm asking is that you accept that and try not to be a complete asshole to him. Okay?"

Jax nods and feels his eyes burn as she presses her forehead against his. His mind instantly flashes back to remember nine-year-old Tara after her mom died. She'd look so lost and alone at the funeral. But back then, he and Opie spent lunch periods and any free time they had either talking about their future Harleys or coming up with pranks and schemes to torture their long-suffering teachers. In his youthful self-centeredness, it never occurred to him that Tara may have needed a friend during her dark days – like she'd been there for him, years later, when Tommy and JT had died.

No, he'll never like Hale; he and the self-righteous prick live too far on opposite sides of everything for that to ever happen. But now that he knows that Hale was there when Tara really needed someone, his enmity for the guy drops a few degrees. But Tara has him now, and he intends to be the one to look out for her - always.

"Hey, I got a great idea, let's skip out on the rest of the day," he suggests, nuzzling her neck. "We can go back to your place. And study." He squeezes her thigh.

"Not a chance, Teller." She stands up and holds out her hand for him to take. "We got English next. Time for Hamlet."

He grabs her hand and lets her lead him back into the school, grumbling all the way, "Fuck Hamlet. I hate that shit."

* * *

On Tara's seventeenth birthday, Jax asks her for a gift.

He takes her to dinner and then to the Clubhouse for celebratory drinks with Opie and the guys. He's happy with the easy camaraderie that's grown between her and some of his Brothers – noting how often she gravitates to Chibs, fascinated by his life as a former army medic. It's a sign to him that she's blending into his MC world, and he's more than ready to take the next step.

"So Tara, how 'bout you and me headin' into Lodi tomorrow night to shoot some stick?" Tig sidles next to Tara, inserting himself between her and a startled Jax. He can't possibly be hearing this right, Jax tells himself while glaring daggers at Tig's back. Was this douchebag actually hitting on his girlfriend in front of his face? Jax shoots an incredulous look at Opie, whose eyebrows have shot up to his hairline.

"Dude, you've got to be fucking kidding me." Recovering from his temporary shock, Jax reaches around Tig and pulls Tara to his side. "She's not available," he scowls at Tig. "Ever."

"Relax, Kid." Tig raises up his hands in surrender. "All I'm thinking is that we put Miss Tara's pool hustling talents to good use. Make some easy cash."

"Forget it," Jax snaps then looks at Tara for confirmation (and mentally hears Opie making whipping noises). When she smiles up at him in agreement, he shoots Tig the finger.

"You don't need to worry about Tig making moves on your girl," Clay tells them, handing out beers. "You're not exactly his type, sweetheart," he lets Tara know. "Not Mexican, for starters."

"Or dead and frozen," Bobby adds helpfully.

"Or four-legged," Chibs pretends to hump Otto, whose down on all fours pretending to be a cow or sheep or something.

But as much as he likes watching his Brothers accept his girl, he can only share her for so long. Grabbing her hand, he leads them to a dark, quiet corner away from the revelry. Relaxing in a chair, he tugs her on to his lap and wraps his hands around the sides of neck before fusing his mouth to hers.

After a few long, hot minutes, they come up for air. She kisses his forehead while he gazes at her, trying to remember the words he'd been practicing for days.

"This is so beautiful, Baby. I really love it." She touches the jade pendant that that he gave her during dinner, while her other fingers sift through his hair.

"Yeah?" He grins up at her, his hands slipping under her sweater to caress the soft skin on her back. "How about you thanking me properly then?"

She strokes the stubble on his chin. "Hmmm. What did you have in mind?" He nearly loses his train of thought as she rubs her breasts against him.

"I'm SAMCRO now, Babe." It comes out in a near gasp as she starts planting wet kisses on his neck. "And I want you to be my Old Lady." Gasping escalates into a full moan as she sucks his skin into her mouth. He loves, absolutely loves, when she marks him as her territory.

"What does that mean?" She straightens and faces him. "How would that change anything?"

Momentarily dumbstruck by the hypnotic force of those green eyes, it takes him a few seconds to respond. "It means you're mine, Babe. It means a deeper commitment for both of us - because in the eyes of the Club, you'll belong to me." He stares up at her, feeling his heart pound as he starts to hold his breath…

"Oh, Baby." She gives him a brilliant smile. "I'll always belong to you." She clasps his face in her hands, lowers her mouth to give him a lingering kiss and then presses her forehead to his. "I'd be honored to be your Old Lady, Jax. What do you need me to do?"

An hour later, she's straddling a chair while SAMCRO's favorite tattoo artist inks proof of Jax's possession on her lower back. Despite all of the whiskey he and the guys made her drink to minimize the pain, he knows she's hurting. A small part of him wants to pull her away as it tears him up to see her in any kind of pain. But the rest of him burns with a possessive joy. He'd staked his claim on her over a year ago, but now there'll be permanent evidence for anyone and everyone to see that Tara Knowles belongs to him, with him, forever.

Seated in a chair next to her, he grips both of her hands in his and leans down to kiss her tear-streaked face. "Hang in there, Babe. It's almost done." He releases one hand to touch her cheek. "I love you, Tara. More than anything."

It doesn't take much to convince her to skip school the next day, and when they hear Frank Knowles leave for work, Jax gets up to make them breakfast. But they're back in her bedroom soon enough. Since she'd pretty much passed out the minute he got her into bed last night, he has big plans for the day. Smiling wickedly, he slides her full length mirror closer to the bed and then pulls her to stand in front of him.

"What are you doing, Jax? Oh…" He yanks her tank top over her head, leaving her bare breasted in front of the mirror. He takes a moment to admire the sight before reaching up to cup one breast, rubbing her hardening nipple between his fingers. He looks down her back at her new tattoo, and the intensity of his desire for her ratchets up another thousand degrees.

He turns his attention back to the mirror, meeting her hot green gaze. Filling his hands with her breasts, he plucks her nipples again and again before slipping a hand underneath her pajama bottoms to rub her wet lips and clit. She rears her head back, gasping his name, but not once breaking their heated eye contact. Never one to be sexually passive, Tara reaches behind her to massage his balls through his boxers – stroking and squeezing until he groans and wrenches away, not wanting to come in her hand. He spins her around so he can plunder her mouth while relishing the feel of her soft breasts and stiff nipples rubbing against his chest.

He whips off her pajama bottoms and his boxers then positions her on the bed so that she's on her stomach, bent over the edge. He rifles through her night stand for the condoms that he's stashed and covers himself quickly. Leaning over her, he lifts her hair so he can nibble on her neck. "Watch, Babe," he whispers in her ear, gently tilting her head towards the mirror. "See how fucking good we are together." Then he lifts her hips and plunges into her from behind.

She screams his name, her inner muscles squeezing his cock as she meets him thrust for thrust. As he pounds into her, he stares hard at his mark on her lower back – the brightly colored crow standing out in relief against her pale skin, proof of his possession, proof of her love for him – and his balls tighten, ready to burst. He sucks the skin on the back of her neck, presses his fingers hard against her clit and then feels her orgasm explode within her. Pumping furiously, his heated gaze holds her desire-darkened one in the mirror as he starts to spasm, shouts her name and erupts inside of her.

They spend the rest of the day fucking in front of the mirror – his eyes glued to her tattoo as she rides him, over and over again. That night he takes her to the Clubhouse and fucks her in the apartment. She's his Old Lady now, branded with his crow. She belongs there. With him. Slowly, reverently his fingers trace his mark on her back while she sleeps tucked against him. "You're mine, Tara. Mine."

* * *

"So Tara, what're you doin' tomorrow night?" Opie asks casually. The three of them are lying on the ground in the Winston's backyard passing around a joint from Opie's stash.

"Really?" Jax turns to frown at his best friend while tightening his arm around Tara, who's nestled against him. "What is it with you and Tig? Asking my Old Lady out on a date in front of my face?"

"It's not like that, Bro. I'd assume you'd come with her since you're pretty much Siamese Twins. I need a favor, and I'm asking her 'cause you got no choice."

"Sure, Opie, what do you need?" Tara peers at him over Jax's chest.

"There's a school play tomorrow night, and I just think it would be fun for us to go." Opie shifts nervously, taking a hit off the joint, as Jax and Tara stare at him in open-mouth shock.

"Seriously?" Jax starts to laugh. Frowning, Tara swats his shoulder, then smiles at Opie. "We'd love to go. What's the play?"

Opie looks uncomfortable now. "My Fair Lady." He takes another hit while Tara blinks at him and Jax laughs harder.

But Tara Knowles isn't the smartest girl in school for no reason. "Who is she?" She sits up and grins broadly at Opie. Immediately missing her warmth, Jax scrambles to a sitting position so he can pull her close again. "You got a new chick?" he raises his eyebrows.

"What makes you think this is about a girl?" Opie huffs looking at everything in the backyard, except the two people staring bemusedly at him.

"Maybe it's all those times we had to stop for frozen yoghurt at TCBY," she teases. "And you don't even like frozen yoghurt. I think her name was Darlene?"

"Charlene," Jax corrects. "And then there was that chick who worked at the movie theatre. I never ate so much popcorn in my life. But I guess that's not as bad as when he liked the chick from the…"

"Donna, her name's Donna." Opie snaps at them. "She's the stage manager, and I may have mentioned to her that I'd try to catch the show."

"You 'may have mentioned it'…" Jax sighs and rubs his forehead, not even remotely interested in watching a school play, much less a fruity musical. "How about we slip in at the end so you can meet her back stage?"

"No, Jax." Tara flashes Opie a knowing smile. "He needs to know what happens during the show so he can talk to her about it afterwards." When Opie nods gratefully, she brushes Jax's hair out of his eyes. "I think it could be fun; something different." Then she leans in to whisper in his ear. "And I can always make it up to you later."

"We're in." Jax grins happily and slaps Opie on the back. Opie rolls his eyes, "Thanks."

* * *

After getting patched-in, Jax quickly realizes his school days are numbered. The work that Clay gives him to do for the Club is too important to interrupt or put on hold while he skips off to class. The only thing that draws him back is Tara; they only have the one English class together so he does his best to show up, even though he doesn't have much time to read or write papers anymore. And of course there's lunch time. If he's not already at school or on a job for The Club, he'll grab a car from TM and drive over to school to pick Tara up for lunch. Well about ten minutes for lunch; the rest of the time to prove how much he's missed her since that morning and tide himself over until it's time to crawl through her window later that night.

He'd just pulled down a lacy bra strap and latched his mouth on to her breast when they hear the loud rapping on the window. Tara scrambles to fix her blouse while Jax groans out loud when he gets a look at the man outside the car. Deputy Police Chief Luke Baxter, Prick Extraordinare. He remembers that Unser is at some cop convention in Sacramento, so this shithead's in charge while he's gone.

"What's the problem, officer?" He rolls down the window, trying his best to look innocent. A lost cause, since he's more than a little well-known to Charming PD.

"I need both of you to step out of the car." Baxter tells them, not even bothering to ask for license and registration. Jax thinks about arguing, but Tara grabs his arm and shoots him a warning look before getting out of the passenger's side.

He climbs out of the driver's side and frowns immediately at the assessing look that the prick is giving her. "You're Frank Knowles' kid, aren't you?" Jax's blood boils as the asshole looks her up and down; the leer discomfiting her enough to cross her arms across her chest.

"What do you want?" Done with niceties, Jax steps in front of Tara, shielding her from this insufferable ass.

Baxter turns those beady eyes on him and smirks, "You're in possession of stolen property, Mr. Teller. I'm afraid we're gonna have to arrest you and Miss Knowles." For the first time, Jax sees the other cop – Jeff Walter, who looks at him apologetically as he approaches them with cuffs.

"What stolen property?" Jax asks in disbelief. "This car belongs to Teller Morrow, meaning it belongs to me." But he doesn't resist when Walter puts the cuffs on him and guides him into the back of the cop car next to Tara.

The shithead ignores him and continues driving toward the station. At the station, Walter processes them – a sadly familiar routine given their two recent arrests for being drunk and disorderly. Both times they'd been partying at the club, knocking back shots of whiskey and tequila in between hits of weed. The first time, Unser picked them at the park after irate calls about drunk kids setting off fireworks; the second time in the movie theatre parking lot after Jax's screaming match with the box office attendant, who didn't want to sell tickets to two loud and obviously drunk teenagers. And both times Unser had let them go once Gemma arrived to get them.

But Jax realizes almost immediately that this arrest isn't going to be as routine as the others. First, Baxter puts them in separate cells; Unser had always let them stay together. Tara hadn't take the arrests well, and Jax had needed the physical contact to soothe her battered conscience. Second, instead of Gemma, it's Frank Knowles who walks through the door followed by Baxter.

"Dad! What are you doing here?" Tara jumps up; her usual pale complexion even whiter with shock and fear. She looks at Jax in panic, willing him not to say or do anything to incite her volatile parent.

"What am I doing here?" Frank Knowles barks a short laugh. "I got a call at work that my kid's been arrested for having sex on a public street, inside a stolen car."

Jax stands, his fingers turning white as he grips the bars of his cell. He watches with growing anxiety as Baxter opens Tara's cell door, serving her up to her visibly furious father.

"Dad, it's not what you think…" She places a hand on his arm, trying to placate a man who's had nothing but contempt for her.

But Knowles isn't interested in explanations and flings off her hand. "You've always been a stupid bitch," he sneers at her. "What would your mother think if she saw you now? Spreading your legs in public? You whore. You pathetic whore..." And as if all his pent-up anger explodes, he back-hands Tara with a force that sends her sprawling to the ground, striking her head on the cement floor.

"Tara!" Jax screams. He struggles violently against the bars of his cell, as if the intensity of his rage could force them open. Realizing that the bars won't budge, he turns his wrath on Frank Knowles. "Listen to me, you fucking son-of-a-bitch. You'd better start running now, because I'm gonna hunt you down and kill you. Do you hear me, I'll kill you!"

"Jax, no!" Tara struggles to her feet and rushes to his cell. His fury surges when he sees the ugly purple bruise on her cheek, the blood on her lip. "Baby, you can't say those things here," she whispers franticly. "We don't want any more trouble." Then turning to face the other men, "He doesn't mean it. He's just upset." She looks pointedly at Baxter. "You can't charge him for just venting."

Knowles looks over at Jax as if noticing him for the first time. Apparently he'd been so intent on his seething anger for his daughter, that he didn't see her equally furious boyfriend in the next cell. Jax channels all of his rage and hate into a glare that he levels at the man. "You don't EVER touch her again," he warns in a voice that's calmer, but more menacing and lethal than his previous screaming threats. He knows his warning hits its mark as fear creeps into Knowles' eyes. Saying nothing, the man storms out the door.

Tara lingers in front of his cell for a moment, staring up at him with pain-filled eyes. "Jax, remember what you promised me. You can't hurt him. Please." She softly touches his fingers, still gripping the bars, then walks out after her dad.

After she leaves, Jax fumes at Baxter. "You asshole, how could you just stand there and let him beat her like that? Why didn't you arrest him? That's assault!"

Baxter just leans against the wall, smiling smugly. "The man's got a point. No one wants to find out his kid's a whore. And that's what you've done to his little girl, turned her into a dirty biker slut – and everybody knows it. She's an embarrassment to him - so whatever he needs to do to rein her in, well that's his call."

It takes every ounce of Jax's willpower not to unleash his rage on Baxter right then, as if sensing the man wants another reason to keep him in that cell. Instead, he shoots him an intense hate-filled glare that promises retaliation. No one hurts Tara or talks about her that way without paying a steep price. Tara won't let him touch the man who hurt her, but that promise doesn't extend to the fucking asshole who put this all in motion. Baxter will pay the price for Tara's pain, pay for talking shit about her like that. And Jax swears to himself that he'll collect that payment soon, and enjoy doing it.

The fucking asshole waits another hour before he calls Gemma to pick him up. The minute they get to the garage, he jumps on his Harley and heads straight for Tara's house, ignoring his mother's tirade about getting hauled in for stupid shit. He needs to see for himself that Tara's ok, that her dad had heeded his warning about not touching her again.

He parks his bike in the Knowles' driveway, not bothering with the pretense of using the Winston's as cover. Frank Knowles' Cutlass is nowhere in sight. Opening the front door with the key she'd given him, he finds her watching TV with a bag of frozen peas pressed to her abused cheek. Gathering her into his arms he holds her tight while she dissolves into tears. "I'm not a whore, Jax," her sobs muffled against his chest. "My mom wouldn't have thought I was a whore." Cursing Frank Knowles to hell, Jax rocks her. "No, Babe. You're not. Whores don't get married, and I'm gonna marry you one day, I promise."


	6. Choices That Will Change You Forever

**Chapter 5: ****Choices That Will Change You Forever**

"_I'm sorry, but I've already told you, Mr. Teller is in ICU; only immediate family are allowed to see him." _

_Despite the constant pleas, bribery attempts and threats of bodily harm, the doctor refuses to allow Teller's SAMCRO family to see him or receive any medical updates. Apparently being patched Brothers in the MC doesn't exactly fit the hospital's definition of "immediate family." _

_Because of the pending criminal investigation, the doctor had briefed Patterson about Teller's condition and early prognosis. Armed with that news, she approaches the bikers in the waiting room. She won't share all she knows with them - preferring to dangle bits of information in order to gauge their reactions. After all, there's a double murder to solve so no one escapes suspicion. But the effort proves largely futile as the men have nothing to offer but worry and grief._

"_Where's my son? What's happened to my son?" Gemma Teller Morrow barrels through the hospital door, frantic and wild-eyed. Cane shoots Patterson a grim look. The missing member of Jackson Teller's motley vigil has finally arrived._

* * *

"Oh my god, what happened?" Tara rushes towards him as he climbs through her window. Her worried eyes scan him from head to toe, trying to gauge the severity of his injuries. "Did you crash your bike?"

"I'm fine, Babe." He pulls her into his arms to reassure her but winces at the contact with his sore rib. She must've felt him flinch, backing away to avoid causing him more pain.

Taking his hand, she leads him to her bed and pushes him to sit on the edge. Standing between his thighs, she pulls off his cut and sweatshirt and frowns at the purple bruise on his side. Running a soft hand across the injured area, she probes carefully, assessing the damage. "Nothing seems broken, but you should still go to the hospital and get it x-rayed," she tells him. "I'll go with you, if you want."

"No, it's just a few bruises. Nothing to worry about." To prove his point, he molds his hands around her perfect ass, squeezing those perky cheeks through her pajama bottoms.

"None of that," she scolds, pulling away from him to fetch a red canvas bag from her closet. She zips it opens and starts pulling out bottles, gauze strips, cotton balls and swabs.

"What is all that stuff?" Jax asks warily. "And why do you have half a drug store in your closet?"

"When I was in that medical careers program at St. Thomas, they gave all of us these kits. Pretty cool, huh?"

Medical supplies? "Not really," he almost tells her but then clamps his mouth shut when he sees how happy handling all that stuff makes her. Instead, he pulls her to stand between his legs again. "So, you wanna play doctor?" He nuzzles her neck and gives her ass another squeeze. "I can be your patient. Which of my body parts do you want to examine first?"

Rolling her eyes, she reaches over to grab one of the bottles and a gauze strip. She pours a tiny bit of the liquid into the gauze then brushes it against the cut near his eye.

"Jesus Christ, Tara!" It feels like she just poured burning hot salt into the wound. "What the holy fuck is that shit?"

"It's ok, Baby." She soothes him like he's five years old. "Need to clean these cuts so they don't get infected or leave scars. You know how much I love this gorgeous face." She pats his cheek and then proceeds to torture him with the bottle of liquid hell.

It's not until she notices his torn knuckles that the worry creeps back into her face. Holding up his injured hand, she stares hard at the broken skin. "What happened, Jax? You got into a fight, didn't you?" Looking up, she snares him with those penetrating eyes. "Tell me."

"It's not a big deal, Tara. I had a beef with this guy, and we had it out. Not my first fight, Babe. You know that."

She doesn't respond right away, choosing to focus on treating his knuckles. He grits his teeth as she dabs that burning shit on his ripped flesh. "I know," she finally replies, carefully bandaging his hand. There's a sad note to her voice as she softly strokes the skin right above the bandage. "I just hate seeing you get hurt."

He hauls her into his arms, fuck the pain in his side. "I know, Babe. I feel the same way." He softly traces the fading bruise on her cheek then buries his face in her silky hair. God, how he loves her. It amazes him that you could love someone so completely, so intensely and then still feel it continue to grow – deeper, stronger.

Fingering the waistband of her pajama bottoms, Jax leans in and runs his tongue along the shell of her ear. He feels her shiver in response and flips them so she's lying on the bed as he looms above her. Meeting her desire darkened gaze, he grins wickedly. "Now I believe it's my turn to be the doctor."

The vigorous, rest-of-the-night game of doctor and patient distracts her from the questionable nature of his injuries, but Jax's reprieve lasts only until the next night when they meet up with Opie and his new girlfriend for dinner.

"Wow, did you hear the news about Deputy Chief Baxter?" Donna Lerner may be a relatively new arrival to Charming, but she always seems dialed into the town's latest gossip. And since showing up backstage after Charming High's rendition of "My Fair Lady," Opie's been all about the tiny brunette. As a result, Jax's never felt more in-the-know about his hometown's citizens; although he's more than a little familiar with this particular piece of news. "My parents were shocked. They said the guy's really nice so they can't believe that someone could do this to him."

"What happened?" Tara sounds casual, but Jax feels her shudder at the memory of their less-than-nice encounter with the man. He tightens his hand on her thigh in a reassuring squeeze.

"Somebody beat him up real bad last night - broke his jaw and a bunch of other bones. They say he may have to quit the PD because he probably won't walk normal again." Apparently it's Donna's turn to shudder, as if considering the crazed violence it would take to turn a healthy man into a near cripple.

"News to me." Opie wolfs down the rest of his burger then turns to face his girlfriend. "How'd you hear this stuff? Your folks moonlighting for the CIA or The National Inquirer?"

"My aunt manages the gift shop at St. Thomas," Donna informs them. "She overheard one of the doctors talking to Chief Unser about it this morning."

"Guess there's no such thing as patient-gift shop manager confidentiality," Jax smirks at her. "News to me, too. I'm surprised that none of the guys said anything about this at the garage today." He guzzles down his fries and then Tara's, grateful when the music playing from the jukebox triggers his and Opie's longstanding Nirvana vs. Pearl Jam debate.

No one's surprised when Tara goes quiet during dinner; her reticence is as much a part of her as dark brown hair and mossy green eyes. But Jax can sense that powerful brain at work, processing new and old information, running through multiple hypotheses until settling on a single (and usually dead-on) conclusion.

She begs off dessert and the party at the Club they'd planned to attend, claiming a headache that's evidenced by her silence and barely touched dinner. She tells him that he should go ahead with Opie and Donna, but there's no way he's leaving her alone with her suspicions. Instead, he takes her home, neither of them speaking as she leads him through the empty house to her bedroom.

Once inside her room, she whirls around and grabs his bandaged hand. "Tell me you didn't have anything to do with hurting that man." There's a desperate note to her voice, as if grasping for reasons not to believe what her analytical brain tells her must be true.

He pulls his hand out of hers then holds them both up, palms facing her. "Tara, I swear, these hands had nothing to do with breaking that man's bones." He can see how badly she wants this to be true, but the logical part of her remains unconvinced. "Fuck it, Tara. Yeah, I admit that I'm glad someone beat the shit out of that asshole. The way he treated you, sic'd your dad on you and then the shit he said…" He shakes his head as the fury comes back. "But you can ask Opie and Piney; I was with them last night until I came here."

Her green gaze locks with his for a moment before she launches herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. "I'm sorry I doubted you, Jax." Heart pounding in relief, he clings to her. "It's alright, Babe. You got nothing to be sorry about."

Wide awake, he stares at the ceiling while she sleeps nestled against him. Dodged another bullet, although nothing he'd told her was actually a lie. _"You can't lie to her face, Kid." _Piney had informed him matter-of-factly. "_She'll see that a mile away and kick your ass out the door."_ So Jax told her the truth; he hadn't used his hands to break any of Baxter's bones. Just not the whole truth; he'd used his fists to knock the guy to the ground, and then proceeded to kick the goddamn shit out of the motherfucker.

_Jax starts off methodically, going first for his legs so that Baxter can't run away – not that he'd have much chance with the Winstons standing guard; he stomps on the man's knees and shins over and over and over – until he hears the unmistakable sound of cracking and splintering bones. Once Baxter's disabled, Jax releases the fury he's been holding back for over a week as he's swamped with images of Tara from that day – degraded and humiliated when this son-of-a-bitch leered at her like some cheap piece of trash, scared out of her mind when her dad walked through the jail's door, bruised and bloody after that vicious backhand, dejected and in tears after hearing her own father brand her a "pathetic whore." He kicks in the asshole's ribs then stomps on an elbow. Then Jax's rage-soaked memory shifts to Baxter smugly leaning against the wall, doing nothing while Old Man Knowles beat his daughter in front of them, letting the bastard walk away scot-free, calling Tara a "dirty biker slut" right to Jax's face. His fury goes into over-drive and the force of his next kick shatters Baxter's jaw and most of his teeth. _

They dumped Baxter's unconscious body in the near-empty St. Thomas parking lot. After stopping at a payphone to make an anonymous call to the hospital about the injured man, they left the van they "borrowed" on the other side of town. "Remind me to never say anything bad about Tara. Ever." Opie had remarked, only half-jokingly, as they walked the few miles back to TM. "Yeah," Jax replied softly, "Anyone else might not be as lucky as this one."

* * *

Jax and Opie drop out of school right before senior year; there's no point in starting any new classes given how little they'd shown up for any last year. Hell, he's been looking forward to dropping out since the first day of high school; falling hard for the smartest girl in school kept him in much longer than he'd ever thought possible.

But now that Jax wears the Redwood Original patch on his cut, his love and loyalty to the Club seem to intensify with every church meeting, every run, every outlaw minute spent with his Brothers. But that level of commitment consumes much more of his time than ever before, soaking up all of his hours during day and even some nights when the Club needs him for an out-of-town run. Besides, the stuff he's learning now – about business, commerce, building relationships with other clubs, legal shit – beats the fuck out of anything he'd ever learn in a classroom.

Tara tells him she understands his decision, but he can sense her sadness - and not just because she'd miss the brief times they'd see each other between classes. For some reason, she's always seen some scholarly potential in him; that he could succeed, if not excel, if he just gave some kind of effort. Of course she's the only person in town to think so – his own mother and every teacher in the Charming school district included. He'd waited to tell her until after he'd filed the paperwork with the school, as if not trusting his own resolve matched up against her ability to convince him otherwise.

Securing the weekend off from Clay, he'd taken her on a weekend camping trip at their special spot near Mt. Walker. Since his sixteenth birthday, they've made a few trips here every summer; it's the perfect place for them to be completely alone – mostly to fuck each other senseless for extended periods of time - but also, when they're here together, it's like they're the only two people in the world.

"Think of it as less competition for class valedictorian," he teases, trying to lighten her mood but failing instantly as not even a ghost of a smile touches those pink lips. Sitting by the campfire, he hugs her closer to him, running his fingers through her soft hair. "Tara, I'm SAMCRO, my future's set. I don't need to waste time in classes learning shit I'll never use at TM or with the Club." He lifts her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her palm. "Don't worry, Babe. I'll always be able to take care of you and all the kids we'll have some day. It'll be great, I promise."

She turns her head to look at him; apparently not sold on his re-assuring words, she looks even more troubled. "Jax, I know the garage is your legacy and how much you want to follow in JT's footsteps, but you just never seem all that excited about fixing cars. If you were, then you dropping out wouldn't bother me so much. I just wish you'd even consider trying something different - something that you love, something that makes you happy."

He's felt surges of guilt each time he's misled her about the true nature of what he and his Brothers do to earn for the Club and how little time he actually spends working in the garage now that he's earned his patch. Even though she's his Old Lady, he's still not sure how she'd react knowing any of the real shit about the Club, or worse, the shit he's done personally. Tara's not like Gemma or Luanne or any of the other Old Ladies who embrace, even thrill, in the less-than-legal aspects of the MC business; even a little knowledge could send her running, and he won't risk that for anything. One day, he knows he'll need to tell her the truth, but it's not going to be today.

"I love you, Tara." He brushes a lock of hair from her face and rests his forehead against hers. "You make me happy."

* * *

After hours and hours riding hundreds of miles, Jax's never been so happy to see the sign welcoming them into Charming city limits. The run to Nevada lasted longer than planned - unforeseen complications in the form of a Mayan ambush added two more days to the trip. But in the end, it's a successful run – the package delivered so the Sons are flush, for now.

Fuck, he's tired. His Brothers take the turn into TM and, for a split-second, he considers joining them and crashing at the Clubhouse for the night. He dismisses the thought almost instantly; he hasn't seen or talked to Tara in four days – the longest they've been out of contact in years. He'd never admit it to his Brothers (although he suspects they might know), but he hates the overnight runs - even a day apart from Tara, and he's ready to go off the rails. Not only does he fucking miss her, but whenever they're apart too long, he starts to feel off-center, lost.

He'd tried calling her yesterday and a couple of times today when they'd stopped for gas, but each time he got the answering machine and hung up without leaving a message. He didn't want to risk her dad hearing a message from him and give the son-of-a-bitch another reason to call her a whore; he still seethes when he thinks about that bastard - or anyone - thinking about her in those terms.

As usual, he parks his bike at the Winston's. The Cutlass isn't in the drive-way, but it's late so he opts to climb through her bedroom window instead of going through the front door. Her room's dark, but there's enough moonlight shining through the window for him to see that she's not in her bed. Frowning, he turns on her desk lamp, the light revealing her perfectly made bed and empty room. He opens the door, and walks down the hallway to the living room; the house is dark, silent. Where the hell is she at one in the morning? Part of him is sorely pissed that she's not here when he needs her so much; the rest of him worries, hating the idea of her being out somewhere this late at night without him. He's about to leave to go look for her when he notices the open patio door. Stepping outside, he sighs in relief; she's sitting on one of the deck chairs, smoking a joint, staring into the night.

"Babe? What are you doing out here?" He walks over, dropping a kiss to her forehead before sitting down on the chair next to her. She doesn't answer, doesn't look at him. He frowns at her silence and picks up her hand; it's cold so he wonders how long she'd been sitting out here. "Babe, I'm sorry I'm so late getting back. Just had some shit go down that no one expected, so we had a late start comin' back. But I promise, I'll make it up to you."

She finally looks at him, no expression on her face. "What would you make up to me?" she asks tonelessly. The hairs on the back of Jax's neck prickle; something's wrong. Facing him is the Tara that other people see - reserved, polite, distant. Not his loving, vibrant Tara, who leaps into his arms when they're re-united even after several hours apart. He scans his tired brain to think of what he might've done, might've forgotten. Coming up empty, he presses a kiss to her fingers. "Anything you want, Babe. Name it."

She drills him with a hard stare, as if trying penetrate his brain, then looks away to continue staring into the night. A few long seconds pass before she coldly replies. "I graduated from high school today, Jax. Or you could say yesterday, since I'm guessing it's after midnight." She takes a hit of the joint before facing him again; the emptiness in her eyes slices through his insides, gutting him as effectively as any tears could've done. "I'm not sure how you could make that up since they probably won't re-do the ceremony, not even for SAMCRO."

Jax closes his eyes. Holy Fucking Shit. If it were physically possibly, he'd kick his own ass. How could he have forgotten something so important to her? Forgotten the glowing happiness on her face when he promised that he'd be there for her, that he wouldn't miss hearing her valedictory speech for anything? Forgotten that he would've been the only one there for her, as any appearance by her dad would be deemed a major miracle?

"Oh shit, Tara. I'm so sorry. I lost track of the days…"

"Save it." She rises out of the chair, and for the first time he notices that she's wearing a new dress. A blue jeans girl to the bone, she only wears dresses on really special occasions. Goddamn, he's really blown this. His brain struggles to find something - anything - that he could say or do to fix this fucking mess he's made, but there doesn't seem to be any magic words or actions that could save him tonight. "I'm going to bed. Good night, Jax." It's definitely a dismissal, informing him that he's got no shot at spending this night – and possibly others - with her.

"Tara, wait." He grabs her shoulders, rubbing his hands up and down her bare arms as if trying to warm the cold skin and the coldness inside her. "Babe, I'm really sorry. Tell me what I can do to make up for this. Please."

She shakes her head. "Nothing." Then probably reading the desperation in his eyes, her face softens a fraction. "Look, it's late, we're both tired. You should go home and get some sleep. We can talk later." With that, she walks into her house and shuts the patio door. He considers climbing through her window to force the issue and convince her to forgive him, but he knows that could easily backfire. When Tara makes up her mind about something, it's no easy feat to change course – sometimes he thinks she could give stubborn lessons to both him and his mom. Cutting his losses, he jumps on his bike and heads home. Hopefully after a good night's sleep, he'll be able to think of some way out of this total fucking shithole he'd dug for himself.

But it's nearly two days before he gets to talk to Tara; Clay calls an emergency church session that leads to another overnight run – this time to Oakland to escort the latest shipment from the Irish. He'd wanted more than anything to climb through her window last night; knowing that she'd probably kick him out, he opted for another mostly sleepless night, this time at the Clubhouse. He'd planned to head over to her house early this morning – hoping she'd be too disoriented from sleep to still be pissed at him – but then had to ride out to Stockton with Bobby.

Riding through the TM gate, he spots her waiting for him, leaning against the used Jeep that she'd bought last summer after landing a part-time job at a doctor's office. Shit, she's an amazing sight for his sore fucking eyes. It takes all his self-control not to throw her over his shoulder, sprint to the apartment and not come out for a week.

Instead, he approaches carefully, wanting more than anything to grab her and hold tight, but mindful of his Brothers sitting at the picnic table. He'd hate for them to witness him getting clocked by that powerful right hook. "You still hate me?"

"I could never hate you, Jax." Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she glances over to where the guys are unabashedly watching them before directing her point blank stare at him. "I'm going away for a few days. My boss is speaking at a medical conference in San Jose and needs me to help him. I'll be home at the end of the week."

Stunned, he watches her turn and open the Jeep door. Then the enormity of what she'd said hits him with the force of a cement mixer. Grabbing her arm, he spins her around to face him. "You've got to be fucking kidding me, Tara. We haven't seen each other for nearly a week, and now you're telling me that you're running off to some 'conference' with your boss. Your man boss. If this is some fucked-up way to try and punish me…"

"You self-centered asshole." She wrenches her arm from his grasp and shakes her head. "This doesn't have anything to do with you. This is about me - for a change. Not you, not the Club. But me trying to figure what I'm going to do with my life. And yes, Dr. Benton is a man - a happily married man whose been nothing but decent to me. Just because my dad and probably half this town thinks I'm a slut doesn't mean I'm gonna start fucking him when we get there."

"Goddamn it, Tara. You can't…" Obviously done listening to him, she jumps in the Jeep and takes off, nearly clipping him and then Lowell on the way out.

He doesn't know how long he stands there staring after her like some pathetic dumbfuck. But when he looks over to the picnic table, the guys are gone and Opie's walking towards him with an open bottle of Jack. "Don't worry about it, Bro." He hands Jax the bottle before lighting up two cigarettes and passing one over. "Tara's been crazy in love with you since first grade; she'll get over this. You guys will be fine"

He takes a swig of whiskey. "Really? Since first grade?" For the first time in days, he feels a smile tugging at his mouth.

"Yeah. She's been brain-damaged that long. But don't tell her I told you; I'll deny it and call you a lying motherfucker."

* * *

"Jax, what are you doing here?" It had taken him and the new Prospect nearly two days of phone calls and faking sick symptoms at Dr. Benton's office to get the details about the conference, specifically the hotel where the attendees are staying. After paying the Prospect the promised bribe cash and swearing him to secrecy (Clay would kill if he knew Jax enlisted the guy to help fix his love life), he jumped on his bike and rode the two hours to San Jose. He forked over another hundred to an opportunistic bellboy to get her room number.

"I miss you so much, Babe," he tells her simply, holding his breath. "I'm really sorry that I fucked up your graduation, sorry that I was such a dick the other day. I'll do anything to make it up to you. Please, Tara, I don't want to fight any more. Don't make me leave."

Grabbing his hand, she tugs him into her room and pulls his head down for a scorching kiss that he feels all the way down to his toes. After sliding his unzipped hoodie from his shoulders, she pulls the t-shirt over his head and runs her hands across his chest. "You're here just in time to join me for a bubble bath." She nibbles his earlobe while he rubs her shoulders through the fuzzy white bathrobe.

"A what?"

Smiling, she leads him into the bathroom where a pretty huge tub's already filled with bubbles. She presses a slow kiss to his lips before turning around and dropping the robe, knowing that he'd get a long look at her tattoo as well as the perfect ass that makes him fucking crazy.

Stepping into the tub, she turns to face him, giving him an eyeful of those gorgeous breasts before submerging to the neck in the bubble water. Glancing at his hands paused on the top button of his jeans, she senses his hesitation. "I won't tell anyone that the Biker Prince took a bubble bath, I promise." To entice him further, she cups her breasts, lifting the lush mounds above the bubbles and brushes her thumbs across the swollen pink nipples. "I missed you, too."

He tears off his jeans and boxers and practically dives into the tub. Hauling her against him, he devours her mouth while rubbing the warm foam against her nipples with his own fingers. Wrapping those long legs around his waist, he presses his thumb hard against her clit before thrusting his cock deep inside of her. Her hands squeeze his flexing ass, driving him to pump harder and harder, deeper and deeper until she screams with the force of her release. He's not far behind, crying out against her neck as her spasms clench his cock, milking him dry. Breathing hard, he buries his face in her damp hair. Shit, he's dodged another bullet. There's no way, no fucking way he'd ever be able to live without this, live without her.

"So how's the conference?" Nuzzling her neck, he wraps his arms around her as she reclines against him, wedged between his legs. Loving the feel of her warm foam-slick skin, he slides his hands up her thighs and across her stomach before cupping her breasts, massaging the plump undersides and watching the pink nipples peak through the bubbles.

"It's been really great." She trails her fingers up and down his arm. "I learned so much and met so many amazing people." As she peppers him with details about the past couple of days, there's a joyful excitement in her voice that he's never heard before. As happy as he is to see her this way, it scares him a little, too.

There's always been something exceptional about Tara – more than just the beautiful face, the gorgeous body, the remarkable brain. Anyone she lets close enough realizes right away that there's some undefined magic about her; something about her that grabs hold and doesn't let go. He's the latest in a string of guys who've crossed the line from attraction to obsession - Tommy, Hale, that douchebag quarterback she'd dated before him (he never told her, but Jax had to pound that guy a couple of times to make him go away). But the difference, Jax tells himself as he reaches down to stroke her crow tattoo, is that he and Tara are meant to be together. Nothing and no one can take her away from him.

* * *

Some days on a job, he feels invincible, untouchable, legendary – nothing fucking beats the SAMCRO. Then there are the days, he wonders if they have enough brainpower among them to screw on a light bulb. The day the Sanwa sheriffs nail them for gun-running definitely fits into the latter category; pulled over for an expired registration, for fuck's sake.

Sitting in the cell overnight, he listens to Bobby and Tig bicker back and forth as to who should take the fucking blame for landing them all in this shit show. The dumbfuck who picked up the van without noticing the expired tags or the dumbshit who crashed the original van they were supposed to use. Jax's lost count of the times he's been to jail, but getting convicted for smuggling guns could mean prison time, possibly a lot of it. He thinks about Tara; how the hell will he explain this to her? All this time, he's led her to believe that they made these out-of-town runs to visit other charters or attend motorcycle and car shows as part of TM's business. He thinks about being separated from her for months, maybe even years if he's convicted and feels sick inside. Fuck, surely Clay and the lawyers will come up with something to fix this mess; there's no way he could last that long without her.

It's another two days before they're finally released on bail, and he heads straight for her house. He's still not sure what he's going to say to her, but he's not going to avoid seeing her until he figures it out. Climbing through her window, he can tell right away that's something's wrong.

"Jax?" Before he can say anything, she flies into his arms, clasping him in an embrace so tight he can barely breathe. For a brief second he considers teasing her about being so happy to see him, until he realizes that she's trembling, sobbing quietly into his shoulder.

"Babe, what's wrong?" He tries to soothe her, rubbing her back, stroking her hair, kissing the top of her head. "Tell me. Did your old man hit you again?" He tries to pull away so he can assess any physical damage, but she clings to him tighter. "Tara, I can't keep standing by and let that son-of-a-bitch hurt you; it's killing me."

Loosening the stranglehold she has on his neck, she takes a long shaky breath before looking up to face him. He searches her face, looking for bruises, marks, anything to explain her distress. He wipes the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs and presses his forehead against hers. "Come on, Babe. Tell me what's wrong."

"I heard you and some of the guys got arrested, Jax - for smuggling guns. Guns, Jax. How can that be? It has to be some kind of mistake, right?" She grasps his arms; her desperate, tear-filled eyes pleading with his. "It's a mistake, right?"

"Tara…"

She backs away from him. "I so was worried because you were really late coming back. There's been such bad weather up north, I was afraid that you could've been in an accident. I went to the Club to see if anyone could tell me anything. Then I heard Gemma and Clay talking to the Rosens." Jax closes his eyes; fuck, he can only imagine the shit she overheard. Ben Rosen's been counseling the Club on legal matters since JT brought the MC to Charming, and now his son - fresh from law school - has joined the family firm. Apparently this gun-smuggling charge appears serious enough to warrant time from both lawyers.

"Mr. Rosen said that if you're convicted, you could go to prison. Oh my god." Fresh tears spill from her eyes as she clutches his cut. "Please, Jax. Please tell me this is all just some big mix-up. You're not involved with guns, right?"

Swallowing hard, he grips her upper arms and stares down into the face of the girl he loves more than life, the girl he's lied to for years. "Tara, we're gonna beat this. Rosen's the best lawyer in town. We won't be going to prison."

Jerking away from him, she shakes her head. "You're not denying it. Christ, I can't believe this." She walks across the room, apparently needing distance from him. "How long has SAMCRO been smuggling guns? How long have you been part of it?"

He's treading dangerous ground here. She may be his Old Lady, but he's had reasons for keeping her in the dark - mainly fear that she'd recoil from all the bad shit he's done and end it with him, but also because the Club frowns on Old Ladies knowing too much about the Sons' business, Gemma being the lone exception. Jax didn't want her anywhere near Clay's threat radar. But as those green eyes slice into him, he knows he's got to come clean; from the expression on her face it's clear that she won't accept anything less.

"We've been dealing guns for a while; I found out when I was a Prospect. I can't say much more except, yeah, there were guns in the van when we got arrested." Hating the distance between them, he crosses the room and clamps his hands on her shoulders. "Tara, I'm sorry."

"Sorry about what, Jax? Sorry that you've been breaking the law? Sorry that you got caught? Sorry that you've been lying to me all this time?" She closes her eyes. "Do you use these guns? Do you shoot people?"

"Babe, I can't talk about what I do for the Club." Jax feels her flinch and tightens his grip on her shoulders. "But I'm sorry that you found out the way you did. I should've told you a long time ago that we're more than just a bunch of mechanics. I was afraid you'd want to break up if you found out about the guns. I don't want to lose you." He drops his hands but keeps his gaze locked with hers, silently begging her to understand, to forgive him - yet again - for being a fucking idiot. "Do you want me to go?"

She stares hard at the patch on his cut and says nothing for several long seconds. "No," she whispers and wraps her arms around him, burying her face into his chest. "I'm scared, Baby. Guns, prison…" She starts to tremble again. "It would kill me if anything happened to you, Jax."

He runs his hands up and down her back, trying to soothe her. "Nothing's gonna happen to me, Tara. We're gonna beat this gun charge." He lifts her face and gazes down into those worried green eyes. "I love you, Babe." He strokes her cheek. "Everything'll be fine, I promise."

* * *

The Rosens get the charges dropped on a technicality; apparently a stop for expired tags doesn't represent probable cause to search the van. There's a big party at the Club to celebrate; it's the first time since his arrest that he's been able to persuade Tara to come to the Clubhouse. Although she's forgiven him for his deception, it's clear that knowing shit about the Club, the guns still upsets her. Infinitely grateful for his reprieve, he doesn't try to push her acceptance, knowing it'll take time for her to come to terms with the truth.

In addition to all of his shit, he knows there's something else bothering her. Ever since that medical conference in San Jose, she's been restless, distracted; a few times he's caught her staring into space, those green eyes troubled. Yet each time he'd probe, she'd claim to be fine but then cling to him with such desperation – confusing and worrying him despite her words of assurance. At first he'd thought she was worried about being pregnant; they'd forgotten to use condoms a couple of times in San Jose – he'd even practiced what he'd say when she told him. He knows they're too young to be parents now, but part of him thrills at the idea of having a kid with her – a baby that'd be half her, half him and tie them together forever. But she never says anything so he just watches and waits for her to confide in him.

"Congrats, Bro!" Visiting from Tacoma, Kozik breaks from his conversation with Gemma to give him a bear hug. "Hey, Tara." He beams her a broad, flirtatious smile. "You're looking as gorgeous as ever."

"Knock it off, asshole." Jax grins, tightening his arm around Tara's shoulders while she greets Kozik.

Kozik laughs then takes a pull of his beer. "It'll be good to have you on the run tomorrow, Brother. It's been a while since we've hit the road together."

Beside him, he feels Tara stiffen. With the investigation pending, Clay had grounded them from Club business until those charges cleared. Now that they're free men, Jax and the guys have a run to Eureka in the morning. Since Clay just told them right before the party, he'd had no chance to tell Tara.

"You're going on a run tomorrow?" She steps away from him, her voice tense. Kozik looks uneasily at Jax then Gemma before mumbling his apologies and taking off to find Tig.

"Babe, let's talk about this later, ok?" He reaches out to pull her back into his arms, but she steps away, shaking her head.

"Jax, you just got clear of these charges. How can you think about putting yourself at risk so soon? What if you guys get arrested again?" Tears well in her eyes; she angrily swipes them away.

"Jackson, you need to get your Old Lady in line." Gemma hisses, shooting Tara a murderous glance. "This is not the time or place for these childish hysterics."

Before he can reply, Tara gets into his mother's face, her green eyes spitting fire. "How can you be ok with this? He's the only child you have left, yet you're so cavalier with his life, with his freedom. How could you want him around all this shit? What kind of mother are you?"

"You'd better watch how you talk to me, you little bitch." Gemma warns, her tone absolutely lethal.

"Or what? You'll grab one of those illegal guns and shoot me?"

Jax grabs Tara's arm and steers her away from his mother, pulling her into an empty room. After a long pause, he heaves a loud sigh. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the run. Clay just told us tonight."

She won't look at him, her eyes trained on the reaper carved into the large wooden table. "I need to leave Charming, Jax. And I'm asking, no I'm begging, you to come with me." She finally looks at him, her tear-filled green eyes imploring.

Stunned, he stares at her as if not comprehending the words coming out of her mouth. She grips his hands in hers, squeezing tight. "Please, Baby. There's nothing in this suffocating town for us. We can go somewhere else, anywhere else and have a better life. Please, please say you'll come with me."

He shakes his head. "I don't understand, Tara. What do you mean you have to leave? Our life is here – you and I grew up here, we'll raise our kids here."

"No, Jax. I can't stay here. I want to be a doctor, which means college and medical school. There's no opportunity for that in Charming. And for you, Baby, there's a better path than the Club, one that doesn't end with you in prison or getting killed." Closing her eyes, she shudders, as visualizing either fate for him.

His confusion turns to anger; where does she get off talking about the Sons that way? She doesn't know a fucking thing about what he and his Brothers do, the bond they share. "You don't know what you're talking about, Tara." He yanks his hands from hers. "The Club is my dad's legacy, taking the gavel one day is my 'path'. I thought you fucking understood that. I can't just leave. I don't want to leave."

"Smuggling illegal guns is your idea of a legacy?" She swings from entreaty to incredulity. "No, I don't understand that. You guys got off on a technicality. What about the next time? Not all cops are sloppy. Do you honestly think JT would want you to fulfill his 'legacy' by spending years of your life in prison?"

"Enough!" He shouts, loud enough to make her jump. "The Club is my family. They're my Brothers; I need them, and they need me. You don't just abandon your family. You have no idea what that's like!"

He couldn't have hurt her more had he slugged her with his fist. Instantly regretting his words, he watches her shoulders slump and pain spread across her face. "Tara…" He reaches for her, but she backs away. "I'm sorry, Babe. I didn't mean..."

But she's out the door before he can finish. He runs out after her, but her Jeep is roaring out the TM gates by the time he navigates through the dense party crowd. Heading towards his bike, he stops at the sight of Opie, Chibs and Bobby laughing over some story Piney's telling them. Reversing course, he walks towards his Brothers. Maybe he and Tara need a couple of nights apart to clear their heads; he could use the time to come up with the reasons to convince her to stay. He's got to find those reasons because the idea of her leaving him tears him apart inside. He can't leave his Brothers, but he's damn sure he can't live without her either.

* * *

"I got something for you when I was in Eureka." He reaches into his bag and pulls out a little rose colored box. It's been a week since their big fight, a week since she'd said anything about leaving town. After he'd returned from the two-day run, he'd spent a couple of days groveling for forgiveness (again) then talking her into a camping trip to their special place.

Opening the box, she covers her mouth and gasps. "It's beautiful, Baby. I absolutely love it." He'd been searching the craft booths in Eureka for something special to give her when he saw the perfect necklace – simple yet incomparable, just like Tara. It cost him nearly every dime he made on the run plus all the weed he'd had on him, but at least the guy had thrown in the engraving.

Pulling out the silver chain, tears well in her eyes when she reads the inscriptions on the flat platinum disk. "Together," she whispers reading the engraving while he strokes her hair. "We're meant to be together, Babe." He drops a kiss on the top of her head. "That's what we've always said."

Nodding, she flips the disk around. "JT loves TKT?" She raises her eyebrows questioningly. "Tara Knowles Teller," he explains, lifting her hand to kiss her palm. "I told you that I'm going to marry you one day. That's a promise." Taking the necklace from her, he drapes it around her neck and locks the clasp.

"Thank you." She cups his face, feeding him long, slow kisses before resting her forehead against his. "I want to marry you, Jax - so much. But I'm serious about leaving Charming, Baby. Together." She squeezes his hand. "Please, Jax. I have to get out of this town; get out before I end up like my mother."

"What are you talking about? Is this about your old man? Babe, you don't have to live with that asshole anymore; I can find us a place – we can move in together, as soon as you want."

"No, it's not about my dad." She looks down at their entwined hands. "Jax, when you see us in the future, you're running the Club. What am I doing?" Sensing his confusion, she doesn't want for him to answer. "Am I still answering phones at a doctor's office? Processing repos at TM like Gemma? Working swing shifts at a gas station like my mom? Abandoning any dreams I might've had for myself like she did?" She shakes her head, desperation in her voice. "I can't live like that; I can't be my mother. Not when there's a chance for a better life somewhere else." She stares at him with pleading green eyes. "I got into college, Jax. Actually, three of them – all in California, so you won't have to be far away from your family. We could visit any time you want. Please, Baby. Please say you'll come with me."

When the Mayans ambushed them during the Nevada run, Jax had caught a bullet to the chest. Fortunately, he'd been wearing a protective vest, but the pain had been so intense that he couldn't breathe. Listening to Tara talk about leaving, knowing that won't be able to stop her, feels like a thousand bullets ripping into his chest.

Fuck, he'd actually thought he'd be able to convince her to stay with him, that they belong together. He'd spent most of his time on the run thinking about keeping his dream intact – running the Club with Tara by his side. Suddenly he realizes that he's still that self-centered nine-year old, planning his life around the Club while oblivious to Tara going hungry right in front of him. Could he actually leave the Sons? Or could he actually live without her, the person he loves most in the world? It's a fucking impossible choice - losing the Club or losing Tara. One thing's for certain either way – his life, her life and possibly others won't ever be the same again.

* * *

In the end, it's ironic that issues of law and order wind up swaying Jax's decision. Not long after the Eureka run, the feds arrest and indict Otto on a stack of felony charges. No sloppy cops and technicalities this time so despite Rosen's best efforts, Otto gets sent up to Stockton. His incarceration leaves the Club shorthanded, a dangerous situation for SAMCRO with the ever-growing threats from the Mayans, the Nords and other hostiles – not to mention the constant issues with the Irish. Jax knows that leaving the Club now could lead to one or more of his Brothers getting seriously hurt or killed, and he just can't live with that.

But the day he says goodbye to Tara, he feels like the one who's dying. She's moving to San Diego, despite acceptance from closer schools in Berkeley and Palo Alto. But the school in San Diego will give her a full ride scholarship so no need for any money from her dad (good luck with that) or student loans. Also, her old boss went to med school there and will hook her up with a part-time job working for one of his old classmates. "And I don't have to worry about where to live," she tells him. "Dad was so happy to get rid of me; he called up his cousin who lives there. Apparently she even lives near the campus."

San Diego – it's only an eight hour drive away, but may as well be on the other side of the world. He suspects that to be as much of a factor in her decision to select a school in the south versus one an hour or so away in the Bay Area. He'd offered to drive down with her, afraid of her on the road that long by herself, but she'd refused. She needed to make the drive herself; besides, that eight hour goodbye would be excruciating for both of them.

She doesn't have much stuff – clothes, books, cds – so it doesn't take long before she's packed and ready to go. Standing in her driveway, he stares at her, unable to speak. She looks tired, her green eyes still swollen and red-rimmed from crying last night – but still the most beautiful girl in the world. He feels a little guilty for her lack of sleep since he'd kept her awake most of the last night and every night this week. When he wasn't making love to her, he kept her talking, laughing – as if wanting to keep the sound of her voice, her musical giggles cemented in his memory.

"Last chance." She smiles sadly at him. "You can still come with me. There's room in the car." He starts to shake his head. "I know you can't," she interrupts before he can say anything. "You may not believe this, but I do admire your loyalty, Jax. To the Club, to your dad's memory. You're the most loyal man I know. It's one of the things that make me love you so much."

She pulls something out of her pocket. It's a gold chain with some sort of pendant. She puts it over his head and lifts the pendant that he realizes is a gold bullet. "Please take care of yourself, Jax. Don't let one of these get you. Believe it or not, but you're the smartest guy I know; you've always underestimated that brain of yours. Promise me that you'll always be careful, that you'll make the smart decisions, stay safe." She drops the bullet and strokes his cheek. "I meant it when I said I'd die if anything happened to you. We may be going separate ways, but I wouldn't want to live in a world if you're not in it."

He pulls her to him, his shaking arms squeezing tight, as if to absorb her inside of him and keep her there forever. He feels the tears coming again and buries his face in her shoulder. He doesn't know how long they stand there holding each other, but finally pulls back to cup her wet face. "I promise, Babe. But I need you to promise me something, too. If you need me for anything, anything – you let me know. I don't care about where or when, I'll be there for you. I won't let anyone or anything hurt you, Tara. Ever."

"Like Deputy Baxter?" Smiling at his startled expression, she tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. "I'm not that easy to fool, Jackson Teller. She closes her eyes, as if gathering resolve. "I'd better hit the road. It's a long drive." She kisses him softly. "I love you, Baby. I always will."

Clasping her face in his hands, he kisses her long and hard before stepping away. "I love you, too," he says roughly, swiping the tears from his cheeks. "Good luck."

Jamming his hands in his pockets, he watches her blow him a kiss and drive away, taking his heart with her; he certainly feels that it's been ripped out of his chest. He's tempted to jump on his bike and follow her, make sure she gets there safe. But he doesn't trust himself to ride right now – blurry vision, shaking hands - he'd crash for sure. Although that pain would be nothing compared to what's shredding him now.

He lifts the bullet dangling from the chain and presses it to his lips. "I love you, too, Tara. Always, Babe." He tucks the necklace inside his shirt, next to where his heart used to be, and walks over to his bike. Giving her front door one last look, he flashes back to that night when he was fifteen and crossed that point-of-no-return with her, making the choice that changed both of their lives. As much as it fucking hurts right now, he knows that if he could do it over again, he'd make the same choice. Although if he had to do it over again, he'd do everything better.

Jumping on his bike, he gives the bullet a pat, guns the engine and rides to the Clubhouse.


End file.
